


Electric Blue

by straighthairdelphine



Category: Carol (2015), The Price of Salt - Patricia Highsmith
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Student/Teacher, Angst, But it's Belivaird, Carol's life is complicated af, F/F, Family, Fluff, Friends With Benefits, Friendship, Genevieve is a central character, Romance, Slow Burn, Teacher-Student Relationship, Therese is kind of a mess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-06
Updated: 2019-05-15
Packaged: 2019-06-23 00:30:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 57,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15594255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/straighthairdelphine/pseuds/straighthairdelphine
Summary: Professor Genevieve Cantrell was someone NYU student Therese Belivet thought she wanted, the reckless relationship she'd needed to shake up her mediocre life. But what she really wants is love, and when renowned photographer Carol Aird enters her life, she begins to think she may have found it.





	1. Who's Afraid of Dr Genevieve Cantrell?

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, and thanks for stopping by for my first Carol fic! Just a few notes from me before we begin:
> 
> \- I don't know anything about photography or art, but I wanted to stick to the film's portrayal of Therese as a photographer.  
> \- I based all these characters on the ones in the film except Genevieve (played by Carrie Brownstein), because in the film a lot of her scenes were cut so we barely get to meet her. She's partly based on the flirtatious Londonder from the novel, and partly on a kind of femme fatale character I'd thought of before and thought I could model Genevieve on. So not quite an OC, but almost.  
> \- This story will start out very Therese-and-Genevieve centric, but we'll meet Carol soon enough. There are just things that need to happen first. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy the first chapter!

'Therese!'  
  
Dannie's nagging voice drifted in through the gap between the door and the door frame. Therese sighed in frustration, stepping over the crumpled pile of clothes on the floor and closing the door fully, slowly so as not to make a sound, hoping to drown out her roommate's panic.  
  
She stepped backwards, resuming her place before the full-length mirror that rested against the wall. A beam of sunlight sneaked through a crack where the blind didn't quite reach the edge of the glass, marking a golden line along the length of her face, reaching down to her collarbone.   
  
She examined herself once again. The faded red button-up shirt tucked into blue jeans, ripped denim exposing patches of lightly tanned skin beneath, the worn black combat boots with their cracked leather. The silver studs in her ears, the tiny diamond necklace just visible before the first button. The dark brown hair that fell, straight, past her shoulders, stopping at the middle of her chest. The thin layer of mascara that brightened her green eyes, made her look more awake than she felt.  
  
'Therese!'  
  
She sighed again. _This will have to do._  
  
'Sorry, I'm coming', Therese called back, probably too quietly for Dannie to hear. She slung her brown leather backpack over one shoulder and headed for the door, almost tripping over her pile of clothes.  
  
'There you are!'   
  
Dannie was sitting at the breakfast bar, but he jumped down off the stool as Therese stepped out into the kitchen. He already had his backpack and shoes on, and his keys were in his hand, ready to lock the door behind them. He had clearly been waiting for a while.  
  
'Sorry', Therese repeated, following Dannie to the door.  
  
'It's fine', Dannie said cheerfully. Any sign of worry had vanished with the sight of Therese, and the knowledge that they wouldn't be late for class. 'I just thought you wanted to be early'.  
  
'Yeah, I did', Therese responded. 'I think I'll settle for just being on time'.  
  
They began their long descent down the stairs to the ground floor, muttering their daily complaints about the broken elevator.  
  
'You look nice', Dannie complimented. 'Is that what took you so long?'  
  
'No', Therese shot back, but Dannie's smirk told her he already knew. She conceded eventually. 'Okay, yes, I spent twenty minutes figuring out what to wear'.  
  
'Why?' Dannie asked, laughing.  
  
'I like to make a good impression on the first day, so what?' Therese defended herself. She practically flew down the stairs, taking them two at a time, leaving Dannie behind.  
  
'So now you wanna hurry up?' Dannie said, almost running to catch up with her. 'It's not like I've been asking you to do that all morning'.   
  
'Can't make you late, can I?' Therese teased him. 'Oh, wait, we're already way early'.   
  
'Well, some of us like to actually be prepared for the day', Dannie shot back. 'You know, instead of wasting our mornings picking out clothes'.  
  
They reached the bottom floor of the building, and Therese pushed the door open to welcome the morning sun on her face. She closed her eyes momentarily, breathing it all in, feeling the gentle breeze flutter on her closed eyelids, before stepping out into the warmth of the New York summer.   
  
'I don't know why you're acting so chill all of a sudden', Dannie pointed out as they begin their walk through their neighbourhood. 'I thought you'd be freaking out by now'.  
  
'Why would I be freaking out?' Therese asked coolly.  
  
'Isn't it obvious?'  
  
'I'm not worried about Dr Cantrell, if that's what you mean'.  
  
He shot her a look of disbelief. 'I call bullshit'.  
  
Dannie knew as well as anyone that everyone was scared of Dr Genevieve Cantrell, even the students like himself, who would never take a class of hers. Even the faculty. Seeing her stalking around campus, capturing victims in her ice-cold glare, was enough to make anyone shrink where they stood.   
  
She was a lecturer in photography and fine art, but her reputation as the most ruthless professor at NYU had reached across the whole school. No one ever talked back to her, no one ever asked her for favours, and, most importantly, no one ever impressed her.  
  
But Therese wasn't scared of her, though she knew she probably should be. She was _fascinated_ by her. How could this one woman have such a powerful presence, such a reputation that everyone knew her name? Therese had watched her before as she walked between lecture halls, dressed in a tailored pantsuit and Louboutin stilettos, long black hair shining. Dressed to kill, and walking with such grace and beauty. Therese always thought she would like to take her picture.  
  
But no, Therese Belivet wasn't scared of anyone. Especially not Genevieve Cantrell.   
  
She told Dannie this. 'I'm not scared of her', she insisted. 'I just wanna do well in this class. It's really important to me'.  
  
'Yeah, well, good luck with that. Cantrell doesn't like anybody, so you might as well give up trying before you even begin'.  
  
'Gee, thanks for the encouragement', Therese said sarcastically.   
  
Dannie smiled apologetically. 'You know what I mean. I'm not trying to put you down. I'm your biggest fan, you know that'.  
  
'I know', Therese smiled back at him gratefully. 'And I know you're right. But _you_ should know I don't care what people say about this class. I'm gonna give it my best shot. I mean, what's the worst that can happen?'  
  
The optimism in Therese's voice never faltered, and Dannie worried that she might actually be serious.  
  
'Something tells me you're gonna live to regret those words'.  
  


* * *

 

  
Dannie left Therese in the main square, heading off for his first class of the semester. He was a creative writing student and an aspiring screenwriter, who could often be found on the cracked leather couch in their apartment, watching old films on his laptop, transcribing sections of dialogue he particularly liked or making his own notes. A couple of days before, Therese had caught him watching _Sunset Boulevard_ , his headphones plugged in and a notepad full of scrawling handwriting in his lap, noting down the correlation of what the characters were saying in comparison to how they were truly feeling.  
  
That's what they always said brought them together, when people asked how they became best friends. They told them that they were both students in the arts. But, in truth, they were just two kids from New York who came from nothing and wanted to make something of themselves, wanted to use their talents. They relied on each other, that way, supporting each other no matter what hard times they fell on.  
  
But today, Therese ignored his words, something she didn't do too often. She and Dannie might have argued or bickered or had differences of opinions at times, but he knew her better than anyone, and she took his advice very seriously.  
  
Except for today.  
  
Of course Dannie was intimidated by Dr Cantrell, everybody was. But, as Therese pushed open the glass doors of the art building, the spark of motivation she felt when she woke this morning lit within her again. She wanted so desperately to do well in this class, and she made a promise to herself to push herself harder than she ever had before.  
  
Her fellow photography students were already filing into the lecture hall as she walked down the corridor towards it. Therese didn't know anybody there, but there were lots of people, people she would be sharing lectures and seminars with for the next two semesters. As she shuffled through the door, one in a crowd, she looked up towards the top of the lecture hall and saw that already the room was half full, with ten minutes remaining before the lecture was due to begin.   
  
Her eyes darted from the bottom of the hall to the top, scanning for empty seats, somewhere she could sit alone and not be distracted. Therese liked meeting new people, even if she was a little shy, but she was so determined to stay focused in this class, to not let her pen leave her notepad.  
  
She chose a seat near to the front, four rows up, close to the centre, and took out her notepad. She flicked to a new page, writing out the date on the top line. Then she set down her pen and waited.   
  
The minutes ticked by, and Therese felt herself growing impatient, tapping her pen on the crisp white of the notepad. A couple of people joined her, a small blonde girl with spiralling tattoos on her forearms and a bearded man in a black denim jacket. She smiled politely at them as they sat down, but turned back to the front, staring intently at the door, starting every time it swung open to reveal another eager student. _Still waiting_. Until, at 9.59, she arrived.  
  
The room fell into a tense silence, and Therese could hear the clicking of those Louboutin stilettos on the wooden floor at the front of the hall. She wore a mid-length dress, the colour of red wine, that hugged her slender figure, and her long black hair fell almost all the way down her back in elegant waves. She never looked up at her audience, just walked straight across the front of the room like a model on a catwalk, and slung her huge Prada bag across the front desk. She stepped forward, and, then, she looked up.  
  
'Good morning, everyone, and thank you for arriving on time. As you will learn if you are late to this class, punctuality is very important to me'.  
  
Her clear voice, in its eloquent London accent, rang out across the lecture hall. All eyes were focused on the front.  
  
'My name is Dr Genevieve Cantrell. I don't believe I have met any of you before, so I'd like to take this opportunity in welcoming you to this module in fine art photography. As you all know, not everybody is accepted onto this course, and so all of you here have been accepted on the basis of your applications and your work from previous modules. You all have potential, there is no doubt about that'.  
  
She looked from one side of the room to the other. Every student remained frozen in silence. Dr Cantrell continued, in the same formal tone, unwavering in its strength.  
  
'Unfortunately, some students in the past have taken their acceptance into this module to mean they will get a free ride through it. Some of you will undoubtedly be feeling over-confident after being granted a place here. But believe me when I say, complacency will never get you anywhere, in life, nor in this class. I have been a professional photographer for thirteen years, and have taught in various institutions for five of those years. I said all of you here have potential, but not everyone has the talent to be great. Here is where those with a bright future in the field are sorted from those who will go back to their small towns in Ohio and Indiana to take pictures for their local newspaper'.  
  
A quiet dread settled over the students, and Therese could feel it too, pressing down on her chest. But, for her, that spark still remained, that feeling of hope. She had never been confident in her talent, always shrugging off praise with an air of modesty. But it was there, she was sure of it. And if she didn't succeed there, she had nothing to go back to.  
  
'I don't tell you this to be discouraging. I'm telling you because I'm being realistic. I never give praise where it isn't deserved, and I will never forgive a substandard piece of work. If you want to impress me, you will have to work for it. I've already been pleasantly surprised by some of your applications, but no one here is at a level where they could not exceed themselves. And if you cannot take my criticism, then you might as well leave right now. Despite what some people might say, I don't get off on tearing students' work to pieces. I may sound harsh at times, but if I have not pushed you to be the greatest you can be because I was not honest with you, then I will have failed you as your professor'.  
  
She looked up again, eyes flickering from one student to the next, and Therese swore she felt her gaze settle on her. She felt an shiver trickle down her spine, like icy water, as Dr Cantrell turned to move behind the desk, plugging her laptop in and bringing up a presentation on the huge screen across the front wall.  
  
'So, now we are introduced, let's begin, shall we?'

 

* * *

  
  
Through the window, Therese saw Dannie in their regular spot in Waterloo, one of the bars across from main campus. It was eight in the evening and the air had grown cooler outside, the light dwindling in its last hours of sun. Waterloo was packed with students from NYU, as always. It was where everyone came at the end of their day, and Therese often recognised faces, not from her classes, but from right there in the bar. Dannie and her mostly kept to themselves, though. They were both too shy to make the first move in a conversation with strangers.  
  
Dannie waved her over as she stepped through the door, leaving the darkness to settle outside, and she made her way towards the bar, squeezing between groups of people and snaking around tables.   
  
'Hey', she greeted Dannie, jumping up onto one of the high stools and shoving her bag down by her feet. 'Sorry I'm late'.  
  
'It's cool. I only just got here anyway'. He pushed a beer towards her, which she accepted gratefully.   
  
That was what they always did, most days anyway. Sat at one of the little round tables by the bar and talked about their days over a beer. The bar was always buzzing with energy, the air heavy with the hum of conversation and bursts of laughter, and strange music always blared from the speakers on the wall, strange in the way that it would jump from decade to decade, genre to genre, seemingly at random. It was too loud and too hot, but Therese found comfort in the chaos. It made her feel like she was a part of something.  
  
That night, though, Dannie had one thing on his mind, and Therese mentally prepared herself for the interrogation.   
  
'So? How was it?'  
  
Therese took a sip of beer. 'It was fine', she replied, nonchalantly.   
  
'Fine? That's it?' Dannie said, disappointed. 'I thought you were gonna say she screamed at someone for whispering or something'.  
  
'No, it was just a normal class. Except she gave this really intense speech at the start. I think it worried a lot of people'.  
  
'Unsurprising', Dannie commented, taking a drink from his own beer.  
  
'She basically said she's super hard to impress and if she hates your work, she'll tell you it straight'.  
  
'It's a good thing you're not easily offended, Tee. Anyone who can't handle someone telling them their photographs are shit won't last five minutes with a stone-cold bitch like Cantrell'.  
  
'Don't call her that', Therese said defensively. 'She seemed very reasonable'.  
  
'Why are you defending her? Haven't you heard the stories?'  
  
'Of course I have', Therese responded, the tales of Dr Cantrell's harsher moments, the ones that had been passed down through the art school over the past three years she had been teaching there, flashing through her head. One of her classmates from last semester took a course with her the previous year and had been humiliated in front of the whole lecture hall after arriving late for class.  
  
'She's a shark, Therese. Get within three feet of her and she'll bite your head off'.  
  
'And what makes you think you know so much about her?' Therese fired back.  
  
Dannie looked at her in confusion. 'My cousin, Mark. Don't you remember?'  
  
Therese thought a second. _Mark? Oh, wait._  

She remembered. Dannie had told her about the time his cousin, a few years older than them, who studied under her in Philadelphia. He had done what some considered to be impossible; he had impressed her with his work. He started working closely with her, even befriended her. Or, he thought he did. One day, she just cut him out. Told him she was cancelling all of their one-to-one mentoring appointments, and that he would never be a great photographer. Said she had reached her limit with him and that he should just give up. He was crushed.  
  
'Shit', Therese conceded. 'Yeah, I remember'.  
  
'See my point?'  
  
'Yes, I see your point. But I still don't believe she's as bad as people say. She's just . . . she's a professional, the best at what she does. And I'm lucky to be in her class'.  
  
Dannie shook his head and took another sip of beer. 'Damn, Tee, that's quite a crush you've got there', he teased.  
  
'Shut up'.  
  
'No, really', he laughed. 'Richard should be worried'.  
  
'You're very funny', she said sarcastically, but she couldn't keep the hint of a smile from her lips.  
  
He stopped laughing, then, and looked at her earnestly. 'Just enjoy the class, learn from her but don't take her too seriously, that's all I'm saying. Mark's done alright for himself'.  
  
Therese took another sip of beer. 'I'm sure it will all be fine', she said, with every ounce of confidence she could force out.

 


	2. Dreams Dictate Reality

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks everyone for the kudos and comments on the first chapter! I plan to update this story around every 3 weeks, maybe more regularly but life is pretty busy at the moment! So please bare with me. Hope you enjoy this chapter!

'So, how's school been going?'  
  
It was the first time in several minutes that Therese had found a silence long enough for her to open her mouth, but she found herself reluctant to even speak now she finally had a chance.   
  
Richard sat across from her, dressed in his usual white shirt and dark skinny jeans, scruffy dark hair falling almost to his eyebrows. _He needs a haircut_ , Therese thought, remembering all the times she had watched him constantly push it back or brush it out of his eyes during the past couple of weeks. _If it gets in his way, why doesn’t he get it cut_? The thought infuriated her.  
  
Therese found a lot of things infuriating about Richard.

She hated the way he talked about himself constantly, barely allowing her to speak. She hated how he didn't ask her the simplest things, like what she learned in her photojournalism class or if she liked the last movie she saw at the theatre, and the way it made her feel like her life was so much less important to him than his own. She hated his rich friends and his upper-class family, who always made her feel like she was inferior in every possible way. She hated how he was so forward, the way he introduced her as his girlfriend, no matter how many times she asked him not to. Most of all, she hated how she felt nothing when they slept together.  
  
'It’s been fine', she replied absentmindedly.   
  
'My classes have been hell. There's this one lecturer, they say he's as strict as Cantrell, so I think I know how you must be feeling in her lectures . . .'  
  
 _And he’s back to talking about himself_. Therese found herself tuning out once again, staring down at her plate, twisting the last remains of her spaghetti around her fork, not eating it.  
  
Therese wondered, yet again, what she ever saw in Richard. She had initially accepted his offers to take her out because he'd been the first person in a long while to take any interest in her. It made her feel special, at the time. Now, it just made her hate herself.   
  
Over the couple of months they had been dating, Therese had begun to wonder if there was something wrong with her. Richard was smart, handsome, and he seemed to really like her. Why shouldn't she want someone like him?  
  
She had told herself, over and over, that things would change in time, she just needed to give him a chance, and give herself a chance to feel something for him.   
  
Therese thought it would take her some time to fall in love, that there wasn't some instant connection, a feeling of love at first sight, like she'd seen in almost every film she'd ever seen. That wasn't real, she knew that much. But she couldn't know how long it really took to fall for someone. Therese had never been in love before.  
  
All she knew was that she desperately wanted to be.  
  
But it had been so long now, maybe not long enough to fall in love, but she knew that her relationship with Richard, whatever it was, would never progress past the point they were at. She still felt no flutter in her stomach when he was around, no warmth when they curled up on the couch together, no safety when he held her, no surge of lust when they kissed.  
  
And now she was just waiting to break things off with him. She knew she should have been honest with him sooner, and she felt guilty for leading him on like this. But she just couldn't bring herself to do it. Hurting people was the worst thing Therese could think of. She had always believed that she'd rather be hurt herself than have to hurt someone else.  
  
That was true now. It would be so easy if Richard would break up with her. But it was no use. He was totally enamoured with her. She saw it every time he looked at her, held her hand across the table.  
  
On days like this, when she had run out of excuses to avoid Richard and she went to dinner with him, or to a movie, or to his regular bars where they met with his friends, Therese retreated into the depths of her mind, like she did every night before she fell asleep. There she lived out her dreams, free from the fear of the future that crushed down her like a physical weight whenever she was with Richard. With him, she saw a life mapped out. That's why she knew she had to leave.   
  
She was twenty-four and she still felt hopelessly lost, wondering how she had come so far into this life feeling as though it had not yet begun. She had finally dealt with her wasted youth and had made peace with it, but now she was free of her past, she didn't know what to do with herself.  
  
Was this how she was meant to spend the rest of her life, with boring men who'd graduate and go to work for their fathers' companies taking her on dates and paying for a life she could never afford, while she worked towards a dream she might never achieve? The thought frightened her. She didn't want it. Therese wanted excitement, wanted to feel adrenaline coursing through her, wanted to do something reckless -  
  
'Terry?'  
  
Wanted to feel something real.  
  
'Hmm?' Therese responded, snapping out of her daze and unconvincingly attempting to appear as if she had been listening the whole time. _Terry_. That's another thing she hated. That stupid nickname he had given her.  
  
'You said before you needed to leave early?' His warm brown eyes observed her with concern. 'How early?'  
  
'Oh, right. I have a class at two'.  
  
'At two?' Richard repeated in alarm. 'Terry, it's five minutes before two'.  
  
'What?' she almost shouted. Richard flinched, startled by the sudden volume of her voice.  
  
'Yeah, I guess we lost track of time'.  
  
'Shit', she cursed, shooting up from her chair.  
  
'Wait, you're actually gonna go?'   
  
'I can't believe I didn't check the time, I'm such an idiot', she rambled breathlessly as she shoved her wallet and phone into her bag and stuffed her arms into her denim jacket.  
  
'You're really leaving now? Can't you just skip the class?' Richard questioned her.  
  
'It's Dr Cantrell's lecture', she told him.

 Hearing her response, he gave her a nod of understanding as if that was enough of an answer. 

'I'm sorry, Richard', she called behind her as she hurried towards the door, almost crashing into a waiter as she fled. 'I'll pay you for the meal next time!'  
  
 _Next time_. She cringed as she launched herself at the glass door. It swung open and she was on her way down the street without looking back, walking as fast as her legs could take her. _There’s always a next time. God damn it._  
She could have ended it between them today. She'd had countless opportunities already. She kept meaning to do it, but when he was looking at her in the way that he did, like he loved her, she choked the words back.   
  
But now wasn't the time to be thinking about breaking up with Richard. She was going to be late for her fourth lecture with Dr Cantrell.   
  
_Shit, shit, shit._ Therese cursed herself over and over for not checking the time. One minute, she had been waiting for their lunch date to be over, and the next, the time to leave had already come and gone. What happened? Had Richard really bored her so much that he'd sent her into a daze, where she became so lost in her own head that time accelerated?  
  
She continued to barge into people on the sidewalk as she rushed past them, muttering apologies as they stared at her in annoyance. As she approached the art school campus, she briefly considered how much easier it would be for her to skip this class, to go back to Richard, or, better still, call it a day and head home. But she reminded herself of the past three lectures and two seminars she'd had with Dr Cantrell. There was something about those eyes . . . Therese swore that the professor noticed her, that she knew who she was. She'd been sitting in the same spot for each lecture, not intentionally but just because she was comfortable there, and every time, Dr Cantrell would find Therese out in the crowd, and her stare would linger for a while longer than she would expect, like she was addressing her alone, like it was just the two of them in the room.

Therese acknowledged she was probably just going crazy, but there was a curiosity that gnawed away at the back of her mind. If she skipped class, would Dr Cantrell notice her absence? And if she arrived late . . . well, the professor would definitely notice her then.  
  
The more she thought it over, the more her worry faded. So what if she was late? Dr Cantrell was just a woman, she wasn't this myth that people seemed to regard her as, a fantasy they had constructed and built up in their heads. What was the worst thing she could do?   
  
Therese hadn't intended to be late, she had just hoped to blend in like everybody else. But now she was here, standing outside the lecture hall doors at seven minutes past two, listening to the muffled but unmistakable voice of Dr Cantrell, an impetuousness was set alight inside of her.   
  
She was going to test her theory.   
  
And before she could think any further, she pushed hard on the wood of the door, and as it swung open to reveal the packed lecture hall, silence descended.  
  
Therese stepped into the hall, the bright overhead lights harsh as they illuminated her, casting an unwanted spotlight on her. She shrunk in the glare, the confidence she held only a moment ago slipping away from her faster than she thought was possible.   
  
Every face in the room was turned towards her, including her professor's. Dr Cantrell stayed silent, motionless for a moment, her icy stare fixed on Therese as she stood in the doorway like a bad example on display.   
  
_Seven minutes late_. Why had she thought this was a good idea?  
  
Without saying anything, Therese moved silently towards an empty seat in the third row. It was far away from her usual spot, but it would have to do for now. Dr Cantrell's eyes followed her as she sat, still quiet, still making her a target for the eyes of every student who's lecture she had just interrupted. She lowered her head, shying away from their attentions, focusing on her bag under the table as she fished out her notepad.  
  
Dr Cantrell continued finally. 'Thank you for joining us, Miss Belivet'.  
  
Therese shot up in her seat, eyes wide with shock. She felt a familiar freeze spread through her body, like cold water in her veins, the same as she always felt when the professor looked at her.  
  
'Perhaps you'd like to join me in my office later and explain the reason as to why my class is not worthy of your punctuality'.  
  
Therese was paralysed, unable to speak. All she could do was nod her head in response. The hint of a smirk crossed the professor's lips, but it was gone only a moment later.  
  
Therese struggled to focus for the rest of the lecture, despite her best efforts, and her promise to herself to be completely dedicated her classes. She would forgive herself this once, she decided, because she was it was impossible to pay attention when her mind was whirring with more pressing developments.  
  
Dr Cantrell knew who she was. More than that, she knew her name.  
  
She'd been right.

 

* * *

  
It was four in the afternoon, and Therese was leaning against the wall outside Dr Cantrell's office, taking a final deep breath before she would knock on the door and enter the fabled world of her office. As far as Therese knew, people didn't come here unless they were friends of Dr Cantrell, or they were in trouble. Therese only fit one of those categories.   
  
She was still reeling from the whole event, struggling to remember why she'd believed this was a good idea. Yes, she learned that the notorious Dr Cantrell did, in fact, know her name, something that was rare even for graduates of her class. But this was at the cost of her wish to keep her head down. Now she'd attracted the wrong kind of attention. She'd broken Dr Cantrell's one rule.   
  
_Come on. Let’s get this over with._  
  
Therese knocked loudly on the door, taunted by the deep red metal bar that read DR GENEVIEVE CANTRELL, SENIOR LECTURER IN FINE ART AND PHOTOGRAPHY. She shivered.  
  
'Come in', a voice called in response.  
  
Therese pushed open the door gingerly and stepped into the room to find herself staring right out of the other side of it, onto the trees that lined the square and the office buildings opposite. The wall was two giant windows that stretched from the ceiling and down, almost to the floor. The carpet was thin and deep grey in colour, and the three walls where there were no windows were stark white and covered with canvases and photographs in thin black frames. Photographs of people, of nature, and of the skylines of Dr Cantrell's hometown, London. There was a huge mahogany desk, and another black leather chair across from it, this one much smaller. Behind this chair was an empty space before the grey couch along the back wall, and an array of filing cabinets by the door where she was standing.  
  
It was modern, organised, glamorous, but Therese felt a coldness about the place, like an exhibition space in which her professor was a work of art.  
  
And she looked like art, sitting there behind the desk in a smooth leather office chair with a back so high it reached above her head. Her hair, so dark it blended into the chair around her head, spilled out in waves over a crisp white shirt. The top three buttons were undone, and the sleeves were rolled up neatly to her elbows, revealing slim forearms and a simple brown leather watch on her left wrist. She wore smart black trousers, and Therese could see the matching suit jacket hanging off a coat hook next to her.  
  
Dr Cantrell eyed her expectantly. 'Miss Belivet', she greeted.  
  
Therese had already decided she would start grovelling as soon as possible, and now she was here, she thought it would be best to stick to the plan. _Here goes_.  
  
'Dr Cantrell, I am so sorry I was late today, I didn't mean to be disrespectful to you or-'  
  
'Yes, yes, you're sorry, I know', the professor interrupted her.  
  
Therese blinked. She wasn't even going to let her say her piece? She stopped by the doorway, unsure of what to do.  
  
Dr Cantrell nodded her head towards the empty armchair across from the desk, opposite her. 'Sit', she invited.  
  
Therese didn't know how to take it. Was she being lured into a trap? Was Dr Cantrell just preparing, bringing her closer so she could scream at her?  
  
She went, anyway, dropping her bag to the floor and perching, timidly, on the large leather armchair, not wanting to lean back for fear of falling down into the seat cushion, of looking too comfortable.   
  
Dr Cantrell regarded her with curiosity as she sat silently, mentally preparing herself for whatever was to come.  
  
'And don't call me Dr Cantrell again. It's just Genevieve', the older woman said, her face still expressionless.   
  
'Genevieve', Therese repeated, as if getting used to the way the name sounded in her mouth.  
  
She must have given away her confusion, because Genevieve smiled suddenly, somewhere between a condescending smirk and a warm, genuine smile that was intended to comfort her. Whatever it was, it was one of the most unusual sights Therese had ever seen. And the most beautiful.   
  
'Relax, Therese, you're not in trouble', Genevieve laughed.   
  
'I'm not?' Therese croaked out.   
  
'I don't care that you were late, I know you didn't do it on purpose. You're not that kind of girl, I can tell'. Her eyes flashed with a flirtatiousness that Therese couldn't exactly explain. It was like Genevieve knew she had complete control over her. She leaned one elbow on the table and rested her head in her hand. Therese noticed how she couldn't keep still, she was moving her office chair gently from one side to the other, catching herself with one foot on the ground before she could spin too far.  
  
Therese shifted uncomfortably. _What the hell is happening right now_? she thought, still in a state of total disarray.  
  
Genevieve continued. 'No, I just wanted to have a chat, to get to know you a little. That's why I asked you here. I shouldn't really be telling you this, but there's an exciting opportunity coming up in the next month for students from your course, and, as there's only limited places, it's up to me to determine which students show enough potential-'  
  
She trailed off suddenly, stopping her spinning and lifting her elbow from the table, letting her slender arms lie on the armrests. Her eyes fell on Therese with that same curiosity she had shown when the younger woman first sat down, like she was trying to figure out her expression, see into her head. She knew Therese wasn't interested in what she was saying, was barely even listening.  
  
'What is it?'  
  
'H-how did you know my name?' Therese blurted out, stumbling over her words.  
  
Genevieve's lips turned up at the corners in a small smile of amusement that seemed to reach her eyes, tinting their lightness with a hint of warmth. She reached down and pulled a black paper folder from a drawer in her desk. She slid it across the table towards Therese.  
  
'Open it', Genevieve commanded.  
  
Therese did as she was told, sliding her fingertips under the cover and pulling it aside to reveal a black and white photograph of a young girl sitting in a grungy stairwell. Her light hair was tangled, like it hadn't been brushed in several days, and her face, sprinkled with freckles across her upper cheeks and the bridge of her nose, showed smudges of dirt. Her striped tank top was too small for her, not reaching all the way to her waist, and her white sneakers were barely white any more. But her eyes, looking straight into the camera, were so bright and so full of life, that Therese was instantly hopeful when she looked the girl. She flipped to the next page, then the next, then the next. Same building, different people.  
  
They were hers. This was the series she had submitted for consideration when she applied to Genevieve's class.  
  
'They're my photographs', Therese said, looking up at Genevieve in confusion.   
  
'Yes', she responded. 'The most memorable work I saw as I was going through the submissions this year'.  
  
Therese almost gasped audibly at her professor's comment, one she had spoken so nonchalantly, like she didn't even know how much it meant to Therese. She snapped her mouth shut before she could make a sound.   
  
Genevieve took the folder back, and began to flip through the pages herself, slicing between them with long, red fingernails.  
  
'I was struck by the honesty you presented in these images', Genevieve continued in a dreamy tone, like she was thinking out loud, eyes still fixed on the photographs. Therese felt like she was intruding on thoughts she wasn't meant to hear. 'So much sympathy in them, so much honesty. Each has so much depth, you can invent an entire backstory with a single glance. Who are they?'  
  
'They're just . . .' Therese didn't know how to answer without revealing that she, for a time, had been one of them, dirt poor and living in a dingy apartment block. It was a past she would rather forget. 'They're just people I met once. I asked if I could take their picture and they allowed me to'.  
  
Genevieve looked up at her again, finally, an inquisitive gleam in her eye, like she could tell there was more to the photographs than Therese was letting on. But if she did suspect something, she dropped it without questioning her further.  
  
'You asked how I knew your name', she continued. 'I get to see the student profiles of every applicant as well as their work. And I always remember the names of the most talented students to enter my class'.  
  
Therese's heart leapt once again, but while she tried to look as grateful as she felt, she couldn't keep the surprise from showing, her eyes wide with shock and her hands trembling in her lap.  
  
Genevieve must have noticed, because she laughed then, a sweet, high laugh that shouldn't have belonged to a woman of her reputation. It was too childlike, almost. Too innocent.

'You don't have to look so shocked, Therese. Surely you know how exquisite your work is'.  
  
'No, actually', Therese responded, looking down at her lap.  
  
'Why ever not?'   
  
'Oh, I don't know. I always worry that my work isn't good enough. I'm rarely satisfied with the photographs I turn in. I want them to be perfect'.  
  
'Silly girl', Genevieve taunted, pouting. 'Beauty doesn't come from something perfect. Art isn't about being 'good', because its flaws are where the meaning is. That's what makes it beautiful. What you photograph can be ugly or brutal or violent, but that's when they mean something, that's when they evoke a reaction. That's what makes your art powerful. I thought you understood that when you turned in these photographs. These are not beautiful people, they're not rich or privileged, they don't have a perfect home or family. But that is their power'.  
  
She got up from her chair and moved slowly around the table, running long fingernails painted blood red across its surface as she approached Therese.  
  
'Perfection is not what you should strive for, it's what you should avoid'. She sat on the arm of Therese's chair, turning to face her. She slowly lifted a hand to Therese's cheek, caressing it gently from cheekbone to the bottom of her jaw, then moved back up to brush a lock of hair behind her ear.  
  
'Pretty baby', Genevieve said, voice low and seductive. 'You have so much to learn'.  
  
Therese was hypnotized by the other woman's piercing eyes, as they went from penetrating her own to flickering over every detail of her face. She suddenly understood, now she was so close to Genevieve, why people felt powerless under them; they were as blue as the cold, clear sky on a winter's morning, as the ice over deep water. She could only sit there in stunned silence, relishing the feel of Genevieve's soft skin against her own. There was so little space between them. Therese was captivated by the perfection of her features, from the soft arch of her eyebrows, eyelashes so dark they cast shadows below her eyes, the straight edge of her nose, her full lips . . .   
  
Therese shook off the thoughts as quickly as it they had come. _Shit_ , she thought to herself. _Dannie’s right. I have got a crush on her._  
  
But it wasn't so unreasonable to think maybe Genevieve felt the same way about her. She couldn't treat all her students like that, right? Therese fought off the pang of jealously she felt when she considered maybe she wasn't the only one Genevieve had invited to her office under the pretence of punishing them. Maybe she wasn't the only one Genevieve called baby.  
  
The older woman got up from the arm of the chair as if snapping out of a trance, returning to the tall leather office chair behind her desk.  
  
'That's all I wanted to see you for, Therese, you're free to go. I hope you'll forgive me for making you think you were in trouble'.  
  
'Oh, it's no problem Dr - Genevieve', Therese corrected herself quickly as Genevieve raised an eyebrow, as if to stop her calling her by her formal title. She stood up from her chair, shivers still tingling through the length of her body, a mix of sheer terror and complete awe.  
  
Therese felt Genevieve's eyes on her as she slung her backpack over one shoulder and hurried over to the door. She knew if she stayed longer, she would embarrass herself even more than she felt she already had done.  
  
'Enjoy your evening, Therese', Genevieve said, waving her goodbye with an elegant flutter of her fingers. 'Come see me again soon'.  
  
Therese turned to face her professor one last time, one hand on the door handle.  
  
'I will', she said with a smile, a fiery excitement spreading through her, like a fire lighting in the pit of her stomach.  
  
In the older woman's eyes, shining with the same lust that she recognised inside herself, Therese saw with unflinching clarity the excitement, the recklessness, the passion she had been searching for. She saw what she had felt in her dreams. She'd finally gotten the sign she had been waiting for, and, for an unknown reason, everything inside her pointed to the fact that she _had_ to see Genevieve again.  
  
She was still smiling as she closed the office door behind her and left down the long corridor, like a villain hatching her plan. Maybe she should show up late more often.

 


	3. Into the Shark Tank

Therese was quickly running out of patience with Richard. He followed her as she stalked along the sidewalk, protesting that she had to get to class.  
  
'Terry, come on, we need to talk about this', he pressed.  
  
'No, Richard, we're done talking. You have to accept my decision', she told him sternly.  
  
'But I don't want to stop seeing you'.  
  
'Yes, but I want to stop seeing you!'  
  
She didn't want to have to be harsh with him, but she feared he wouldn't get the message any other way.  
  
Therese had called Richard last night, telling him they needed to talk. They had gone to get brunch at a cafe they often went to in the East Village this morning, and Therese, as sympathetically as she could, told Richard that it was over between them. His face dropped, like he couldn't comprehend what she was telling him. They'd gotten into an argument, which mostly consisted of Therese insisting that she wasn't happy with him and she didn't see a future together, and Richard insisting that she didn't know what she was saying, that he loved her and soon she would love him too, she just needed more time.  
  
Therese found the whole ordeal exhausting, and quickly got frustrated as she listened to him telling her what she was feeling. She barely knew her own mind these days, so how could Richard have the audacity to try and explain her own thoughts to her?  
  
Things were even more chaotic than usual in Therese's head since she visited Genevieve in her office. It had been a week since then, and Therese couldn't stop thinking about her. It was one of the reasons she'd finally pushed herself into breaking up with Richard, as much as she hated to do it. She knew it would hurt him, because she knew how much he liked her and she knew the future he saw with her. But there was something about that meeting in the office.  
  
Therese struggled to explain how she felt about Genevieve. She had always been in awe of the woman, practically getting starstruck every time she saw her on campus. Now she'd spoken to her alone, she'd been close to her, she'd felt her fingertips brushing lightly down the side of her cheek, along her jaw. She felt lust, that she was certain of. And there was something so exciting about the whole thing, something dangerous.  
  
Being with Genevieve was dangerous. But it felt like something she would never do. And that's exactly what she needed right now.  
  
'Terry, please', Richard begged, standing in front of her.  
  
She stopped walking, unable to get past him, and turned away, arms folded. 'I don't know what else to say, Richard. This is it. We're done, why can't I get that through to you?'  
  
He took her forearms in his hands, pulling her back to him, pleading with her. 'Terry, I love you. I can change. We can make this work'.  
  
But Therese shook herself free of his grasp, and turned to him, moving one step closer so their faces were inches apart, forcing him to look into eyes that burned with anger. 'Richard, look at me and listen', she demanded. 'I don't love you, and I am never going to love you. I'm not the girl you're looking for, I never have been. I don't want you to call me, I don't want you to stop by my apartment. I want you to forget about me. And it will be easy when you finally realise that I'm not what you wanted'.  
  
She watched as his eyes dropped to the floor, and she hoped it was realisation that washed over him now. Taking advantage of the distraction, she stepped around him and continued on her way, leaving him behind, stopped still in the middle of the sidewalk.  
  
'Terry!', she heard him call behind her.  
  
'Stop calling me that!' she shouted back.  
  


* * *

  
  
The fine art photography seminar was unbearable afterwards. Therese turned up late again, but this time she didn't care at all. The situation with Richard had put her in the worst mood, and even Genevieve Cantrell couldn't change that. The professor didn't bat an eyelid when Therese showed up late, prompting nasty looks from the other students who knew they'd never be able to get away with it themselves. Genevieve must have seen the scowl on her face and known she wasn't in the mood for being told off, even though she knew she was never really in trouble, that Genevieve was just playing pretend for her classmates.  
  
The tables were set around the edge of the room, all facing inwards and directed at the front desk and the projector. And it was a seminar too. Therese groaned internally. She couldn't just sit there for an hour and let Genevieve talk at her, like in a lecture. She actually had to contribute, discuss ideas. And she had absolutely zero motivation.  
  
Maybe she'd have to let the other ten students carry her today. Hopefully they were feeling a little more inspired.  
  
Therese sat between two classmates she hasn't spoken to before and shoved her bag under the table, pulling out her laptop and almost slamming it down on the desk.  
  
She hadn't thought breaking up with Richard was going to be easy, that's why she'd avoided doing it for so long. She hated confrontation, hated making people feel bad. But she thought he'd understand. She thought he would let her go. It wasn't like things had been going great between them. Therese had been stand-offish for weeks. Surely he'd sensed their time was almost up.  
  
But he hadn't let her speak. He talked over her like that would make his argument more valid, like the strength of his voice was proof of his sincerity. Every time Therese opened her mouth to say something the words died in her mouth as Richard continued. He didn't want to listen because he didn't want to believe what she was saying. So he wouldn't let het say anything at all.  
  
Therese had felt so hopeless that she had to get up and leave, telling him to stay away from her. That's when he followed, when he told her she was being stupid.  
  
She got angrier the more she thought about it. How dare he act like he knew better? How dare he try to convince her that what she was feeling was wrong? Richard hardly knew anything about her, he'd never bothered to ask. Always talking about himself. And in her silence and mystery, he painted a picture of Therese that conformed to his ideal woman. But that wasn't a reflection of who she really was. It was a portrait of how he wanted her to be. Someone she could never be.  
  
'Therese?'  
  
'Hmm?' she said, the sound of her name bringing her back to the present. Her eyes flickered up from the floor, where she had been staring absent-mindedly, to Genevieve, who looked at her expectantly, arms folded.  
  
Therese had already given up on this class. If she wasn't so preoccupied with Richard, she would have been preoccupied with Genevieve. She was sitting on the edge of the front desk, swinging her legs, dressed in a silky black camisole top and dark grey pants. She was stunning, as always, but Therese was so lost in her thoughts that she had barely noticed. Looking at Genevieve now, though, now she was talking directly to her, Therese felt that familiar fire in her stomach.  
  
'Have you been listening to a word I just said?' Genevieve asked her.  
  
'Um, no', Therese mumbled.  
  
'Well, if you have nothing to contribute, maybe you had better come and see me in my office this afternoon', she said coldly. 'Perhaps you can come up with a reasonable explanation as to why my class is not worthy of your time or attention'.  
  
_Great_ , Therese thought. _Any day but today_. She was too wound up to see Genevieve, she felt like the slightest thing could make her explode. And Genevieve would definitely be the one to test her.  
  
She just wanted to go home, curl up in bed, and sleep the rest of the day away. Maybe she would feel better tomorrow.  
  
But she couldn't just decline in front of the whole class. No one said no to Genevieve.  
  
'Okay', Therese responded reluctantly.  
  
With that, Genevieve carried on like nothing had happened. But Therese felt the eyes of the other students boring into her, and she kept her head down to avoid catching their eyes.  
  
She understood why. They had just seen the strictest professor in school reprimand her, and she didn't even seem to care. Most students would be on the verge of tears by now, but Therese remained uninterested, like Genevieve was nothing to fear.  
  
Or maybe it was because Genevieve knew her name.  
  
Whatever it was, Therese was the professor's favourite, and her classmates were starting to see it.  
  


* * *

  
  
It was early afternoon, and the sky was so black with raincloud that Therese felt cold, despite the heat that still lingered in the air, clinging to the city as summer faded into fall. She felt a storm coming.  
  
She turned her attentions from the window and the threatening darkness of the sky back to Genevieve. She was sitting behind her desk in that huge chair that seemed to shrink her, like a queen on a grand throne, staring at Therese as if she was waiting for her to speak.  
  
'What?' Therese said, her voice hard.  
  
She didn't mean to sound so rude. Fortunately, she had calmed down since the morning's ordeal, but she was still feeling a little on edge. Now, she was more sullen than angry.  
  
Genevieve raised her eyebrows, startled by Therese's sudden snap.  
  
'Are you going to explain to me why you were late today?' she asked.  
  
'Why? I'm not in trouble', Therese answered, like a misbehaving middle school kid who'd been to the teacher's office so many times they no longer feared the consequences.  
  
Genevieve glared at her. 'Don't get complacent with me, Therese. I might have to fail you on one of your assignments, keep you on your toes'.  
  
'You wouldn't do that', Therese challenged.  
  
'No, maybe that's too harsh. But don't ever think I won't shake things up if I have to. You're one of my best students, and you have more natural talent than anyone in that class. I won't have you letting your grades slide because you know I won't punish you. Because I will'.  
  
Therese didn't respond. She felt guilty all of a sudden, regretting that burst of boldness that had made her overconfident with Genevieve. She knew she had to be careful. _She’s a shark_. That's what Dannie had said. But she had a hard time seeing Genevieve that way. She was unpredictable, she was alluring, but she wasn't a bad person. Therese was sure of that.  
  
Genevieve sensed the lull in the conversation, and Therese's reluctance to say anything else should she push her luck too far.  
  
'So what _was_ going on with you today?' she asked.  
  
Therese didn't accept this change of subject gratefully.  
  
'I don't want to talk about it', she muttered. Richard was the last thing she wanted to talk about, especially with Genevieve. Besides, she knew thinking about this morning would just wind her up all over again.  
  
'Something was definitely up, you never show up to class like that', Genevieve observed.  
  
'It's not important'.  
  
'Well, it is to me, when it means I've lost your attention'.  
  
'Really, it's nothing', Therese insisted.  
  
'It's clearly _not_ nothing'.  
  
'Genevieve-'  
  
'Okay, fine if you won't tell me, I'll have to guess'.  
  
Therese sighed in frustration, wishing Genevieve would just let it go.  
  
'Boyfriend trouble'.  
  
Therese shook her head, laughing humourlessly to herself.  
  
'I'm right, aren't I?' Genevieve smiled, suspicious.  
  
'I don't have a boyfriend', Therese mumbled.  
  
'Hmm?'  
  
'I don't have a boyfriend', she repeated, more confidently this time.  
  
'Fine. Girlfriend'.  
  
Therese shook her head again. 'I don't have anyone'.  
  
Genevieve stared at her, curiosity burning in her eyes. 'Interesting'.  
  
'Why interesting?' Therese questioned.  
  
'Girls like you never have no one', she explained simply, getting up from her chair and walking slowly over to the window, leaning back against the glass. 'There's always some guy waiting to try his luck'.  
  
'I don't want any of them'.  
  
'Why not?'  
  
'They're just . . . not what I like', Therese told her hesitantly, as if she didn't know how to explain herself.  
  
'And what do you like?'  
  
'I don't know yet'.  
  
Genevieve chuckled. 'Well, they do say college is the time for experimenting'.  
  
'What about you?' Therese asked, voice bolder than she truly felt.  
  
She raised an eyebrow. 'What about me?'  
  
'Do you have anyone?'  
  
The professor turned to look out of the window, like she was contemplating, before she answered.  
  
'I have whoever I want', she said, without even a hint of emotion.  
  
Therese couldn't tell if she meant it. She couldn't see her face.  
  
Genevieve turned around in the silence, as if she expected a response.  
  
'Oh, come on, Therese. You hear the rumours. Don't you ever wonder if they're true?'  
  
Honestly, Therese had always known they were likely to be true, as much as she never wanted to listen. And she had heard them all. Genevieve slept around. She used people and discarded them like they were nothing. She could destroy someone's career in a minute, and their dignity in a second. She was manipulative. She was cold. And she never fell in love because she could never keep someone around long enough. She was inherently incapable of it.  
  
'I don't like to believe rumours', Therese said defiantly.  
  
Genevieve's eyes sparkled, mischievous and mysterious. 'I'm dangerous. That's what they call me. I hear everything. And I have to uphold that reputation somehow'.  
  
Therese thought she understood. Genevieve was a woman who knew her own power, and to maintain it she had to stay in control of what other people thought of her. She knew what everyone said about her, the comments they made. Therese often wondered where the rumours came from. Did someone make them up, or did she do something? Or maybe she was always like this, and she was just open about it. Maybe she never cared what people thought of her.  
  
Whatever the case, she knew what she was up against. If that's what people thought, then that's how she would be. Because that way, the rumours couldn't touch her any more.  
  
Still, Therese wondered how Genevieve saw herself, what she thought when she looked in the mirror.  
  
'For what it's worth, I don't believe you're as bad as people say', Therese said.  
  
'Oh, really?' she challenged.  
  
'Really'.  
  
'You're not scared of me, like everyone else?'  
  
'No'.  
  
Genevieve smirked. 'Then step a little closer'.  
  
Therese did as she was told, stepping forward obediently like a woman possessed, hypnotised. Genevieve came closer too, the tension between them building with each slow step, until the two women stood face to face in the middle of the room. The same height only because Genevieve was wearing heels, the same gaze locked on the face of the other.  
  
Genevieve cocked her head to one side. 'Then what do you think, baby?'  
  
Therese had almost forgotten how to exhale, unintentionally holding her breath. She could have said a thousand things, and each one would have scared her even more than the last, had they left her lips.   
  
_This is stupid_ , she told herself. _What are you doing? What part of you thinks anything good will come of this?_  
  
She was risking everything. And she couldn't deny that she wanted it anyway, couldn't ignore the fire Genevieve ignited in her after feeling so cold and empty for so long.  
  
So she told Genevieve what she really thought of her.  
  
'You're incredible', Therese breathed.  
  
Genevieve gave her a smug smile, certain now that Therese was unable to resist her.  
  
'I'm not as bad as they say', she said seductively.   
  
And then she leaned in closer, to whisper in Therese's ear.  
  
'I'm worse'.  
  
Therese felt a shiver run down her spine as the fire in her stomach spread throughout the rest of her body, and as Genevieve pulled back and pressed her lips to hers, the clash of ice and flames was so ferocious, it shook her to the core. And she fell into Genevieve, arms snaking around the back of her neck whilst Genevieve held her at the waist, kissing her with such force that the two of them almost fell backwards. Genevieve lifted her up onto the desk behind them, and Therese wrapped her legs around the older woman's waist, pulling her closer so their bodies were pressed together as Genevieve pushed Therese back against the desk. But, wait, she wasn't pushing her back, she was pushing her away-  
  
Genevieve stood back suddenly, pulling herself together like she hadn't come apart only moments before. Her face fell back into that mask of hers, the one she wore every day, the one she showed the world.  
  
'Now get out of my office', she said.  
  
Therese was confused. Genevieve had kissed her first. Didn't she want this?   
  
But her panic slipped away as she saw the flirtatious smile play across Genevieve's lips.

  
_So that’s how she wants to play it._  
  
Therese wanted to say something back to her, but anything she came up with just sounded stupid in her head, and they'd be even worse on her tongue. So she just did what she was told. She grabbed her bag and went straight for the door.  
  
'And Therese?' Genevieve called after her. 'Do come back. We're not finished here'.  
  
Again, Therese couldn't even respond. She just gave her professor a curt nod and slipped out of the door as quietly as she could, for fear someone was waiting outside the office and had heard them. When the empty corridor revealed itself to her, she sunk to the ground, leaving back against the closed door, heart thumping rapidly in her chest, drunk from exhilaration and the complete disbelief in herself.  
  


* * *

 

Dannie knocked lightly on Therese's door at around eleven. She was curled up in bed with a book, so tired after the events of the day, but her head spinning so violently that she couldn't sleep yet. And she couldn't concentrate on her book either.  
  
'Tee, you better come to the door', Dannie told her.  
  
'Who's at the door?' she asked.  
  
'It's Richard'.  
  
Therese's heart sunk. 'Please tell me you're kidding'.  
  
Dannie just shook his head.  
  
Therese sighed, pushing back her duvet and crawling out of bed, stepping into cream fluffy slippers that made shuffling sounds on the wooden floor. She crossed the kitchen to where Richard stood in the hall, darkening the doorway. He looked the same as he had that morning, but while he had greeted her with a warm smile then, now his face was dark, a deep frown running across his forehead.  
  
'What is it, Richard?' she sighed, folding her arms.  
  
'I came to talk', he replied, a harsh edge to his voice though it still shook with vulnerability.  
  
'We're done talking'.  
  
'Why? Why can't we discuss this?'  
  
'Because there's nothing else to say, Richard! If you came to change my mind, you won't do it, that's why there's no point in talking'.  
  
'Terry, there must be a reason. You can't just go from loving me one day, to saying goodbye the next-'  
  
'Richard, don't you get it? I never loved you! I know you love me, and I know you want to make it work, but you and I don't stand a chance, because I'm not the girl you're looking for. I never was'.  
  
'You really never loved me?' he asked, but he didn't sound hurt by the prospect. It was more like a challenge, as if Therese was crazy to say such a thing.  
  
'No! You just let yourself believe it. Think about all the time we spent together. If you look a little closer, you'll know I never did'.  
  
Richard remained silent for a moment, like he was thinking it over, and for a second Therese thought she might have gotten through to him. But suddenly his eyes widened in realisation.  
  
'There's someone else!' he exclaimed.  
  
'What?'  
  
'It's the only explanation!'  
  
_The only explanation_. Therese rolled her eyes.  
  
'There is, isn't there? I don't believe this!'  
  
'Richard-'  
  
'Tell me the truth. You've found another guy!'  
  
'No, I haven't', she said earnestly.  
  
Richard ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head in disbelief.  
  
'Terry, don't lie to me!' he exclaimed, voice raising in anger.  
  
'I thought I told you to stop calling me that'.  
  
'Don't even start-'  
  
'Okay, fine, there is someone else!' Therese blurted out.  
  
She was at the end of her tether now. The only way to sever her ties with him was to tell him what was really going on.  
  
'Who is he?' Richard demanded.  
  
'She', Therese mumbled.  
  
'She?'  
  
She looked up at him, so he could see that there was no word of a lie on her lips, no sign of a joke on her face, no hint of humour in her eyes.  
  
'Terry, what the fuck?' Richard shouted. 'You've got to be fucking kidding me!'  
  
'Do I look like I'm kidding?' she retorted.  
  
'Terry, you're not even gay!'  
  
'How do you know?'  
  
Truthfully, Therese didn't even know the answer herself. She'd never seen herself as being either gay or straight, she was just never concerned by gender. But after the unsatisfying experiences she'd had with men in the past, Richard included, she'd begun to consider whether men were for her at all.  
  
Richard looked at her gone out, like he couldn't even comprehend what he was being faced with. 'We slept together!'  
  
'And did I ever enjoy it?' she shot back.  
  
Richard gritted his teeth.  
  
'Who is she?' he asked bitterly.  
  
'Why do you care?'  
  
'You're right. I don't', he sneered. 'I hope you two have a very happy life together'.  
  
With one final look, a run of his judging eyes up and down her body, he stormed off down the hall. Therese shut the door behind him as quickly as she could. She leant back against the door, closing her eyes and breathing a sigh of relief.  
  
Dannie popped his head around his bedroom door.  
  
'What just happened?' he asked, smirking.  
  
'Have you been listening in?'  
  
'Maybe. I mean, you were shouting'.  
  
'Sorry'.  
  
'Don't be. Have you really met someone else, or did you just say that?'  
  
Therese rolled her eyes, but she couldn't keep the smile from her lips. 'Shut up, Dannie'.  
  
'No, seriously. When can I meet her?'  
  
'You can't'.  
  
'Why not?'  
  
'It's . . . complicated'.  
  
'That's the oldest excuse in the book!'  
  
'Well it's true! And besides, it's nothing. I'm not dating anyone, it's just . . . something'.  
  
'So you _were_ making it up?'  
  
'Ugh, I'll explain later. Go to bed, Dannie'.  
  
'Okay, fine', he conceded. 'Sleep well, Tee'.  
  
'You too'.  
  
He slipped back into his bedroom, shutting the door and leaving Therese alone in the kitchen. She wasn't sure she'd sleep at all after today.  
  
Maybe she'd been too hard on Richard. It had definitely been a huge blow to his fragile ego to find out Therese liked women, as if he was the one who had 'turned' her. Therese was almost certain that was what he thought. Richard was so intelligent, but he was also so clueless when it came to things like that.  
  
But she knew being hard on him was the only way to ensure he left her alone. She couldn't let him walk away thinking there was still a chance. He needed to let go. She already had.  
  
Richard had said he hoped she would have a happy life with the new girl. Therese smiled to herself. If only he knew the truth.  
  
Have a happy life with Genevieve? That was impossible. But for now, she was just happy to be free.  
  
  
  



	4. Cherries and Wine

Genevieve's fingers danced across the keyboard, the light from her laptop screen reflecting in her glasses.   
  
Therese watched her work, the rhythmic tap of the keys the only sound in the quiet of the office. She was sitting on the couch opposite Genevieve's desk, legs stretched out, boots kicked off in the middle of the floor, laptop on her lap. And she envied the other woman, wishing she was churning out words on her keyboard. The stark white of the page on her screen taunted her with its emptiness.  
  
Therese had started coming here, to Gen's office, to work on her assignments, but it never seemed to work out for her. Because the two women were too distracted by each other to ever get anything done. And since their first kiss, not even a month ago, things had escalated between them at a rapid rate, and Therese's visits to Genevieve's office became more and more frequent.  
  
The first time was making out on the couch, Gen straddling Therese, kissing her hard, teeth grazing the fragile skin of her neck and collarbone, while Therese's hands explored beneath Gen's shirt. Therese had left the office with three distinct purple marks at the base of her neck, and she hurried as far away as she could before anyone saw her. The second, Therese had barely walked through the door when Genevieve had launched herself at her, pinning her hands behind her on the wall and kissing her neck hungrily, like a starving animal. And the third time, they had sex on the desk, Therese laid out across the hard surface but barely noticing the discomfort of it, all of her mind and body completely focused on Genevieve as the other woman's tongue explored between her legs.   
  
Then it always went like that. The sex was always the same, whether it was on the desk, or the couch, or the floor, it was always messy and passionate and left Therese shaking violently. With Gen, she felt a new kind of ecstasy, and she kept coming back for more.   
  
She knew the older woman was using her. But she never had any expectation that something more would become of them. And she told herself if she ever began to feel anything more for Genevieve, she would walk away, because she knew Gen would never feel anything more for her.  
  
Therese's eyes wandered around the room she was so familiar with now, anything to keep her attentions away from that empty page.   
  
Sunset filtered through the window, through the cracks in the blinds, which were rolled down half way, and through the clear glass below. It painted the white wall opposite, an orange glow in streaks and blocks, brush strokes on an empty canvas. Therese watched them move in the fading light until they were barely there at all.  
  
Summer had retreated, and the city had dragged the cool air of fall into its streets. The presence of the sun was by no means a rare thing, which Therese was grateful for, but still the grey skies descended on New York with each passing day like a blanket of gloom.   
  
Therese didn't feel gloomy, though. In fact, she has scarcely noticed the change in the weather, something that usually chased her into the depths of winter. She never could stand the cold. But the sun still shone, the leaves of gold and brown and orange crunched and crackled beneath her boots, and for the first time in a long while she felt happy. Not self-assured, or in control, or particularly optimistic, but happy. Like a new person, like she had finally shed the skin that still clung to her, no matter how hard she tried to peel it away. Maybe that's why she found herself embracing the fall instead of searching for the last glow of warmth. It was a different season, and she was a different woman.   
  
Unfortunately, this new woman's work ethic was far less impressive. Therese felt the motivation slowly draining from her, and she knew she'd hit her limit, that she wouldn't get anything else done here. She had an essay due for tomorrow that she'd barely started, and she was determined not to submit it past the deadline. But now she had to take a break. Maybe the walk home would clear her head, and she'd be able to sit down in the kitchen and look at the work with a fresh perspective. Not that there was anything particular inspiring about the walk back through the East Village.  
  
She shut her laptop with a loud snap, causing Genevieve to look up from her own computer.  
  
'I better head out, Gen, I have an assignment for Harkevy due tomorrow', Therese explained, sliding her laptop into her bag.  
  
The professor took off her glasses. 'Don't go yet, baby, I need to invite you to my party'.  
  
Therese looked at her. 'A party?'  
  
'It’s just a gathering at my apartmenttomorrow night. I'd like it if you came'.  
  
There was something in Genevieve's face, the smile so small it was barely there, that told Therese she really meant it, because Gen never got shy unless she was putting herself on the line. It's not something she did often. And that's why Therese was so pleasantly surprised by the sentiment. Gen could make her feel so special when she acted like she cared. _So pathetic_ , Therese acknowledged. But it was true, nevertheless.  
  
There was something else though. The prospect of going to a party in Gen's home, surrounded by her friends and colleagues, being seen with her in public, was so daunting to her. She hadn't been to Genevieve's apartment. The office had been the only place they spent time alone together, and it had become like a bubble for Therese. It felt like stepping into a different world every time she walked through the door, where she became a different version of herself, someone she was still trying to figure out. But stepping outside of that bubble would make her strange relationship with Gen so much more real, and the thought scared her. And to go to her apartment? It felt so intimate, like the next step for the two of them.   
  
'Oh, I don't know, Gen', Therese responded honestly.  
  
Gen shrugged. 'Just think about it. Almost everyone I know is an artist, and many of them have very powerful contacts in New York. I thought it might be a good opportunity for you to meet some people in the industry'.  
  
 _Oh, right_ , Therese thought. She hadn't even considered that. But now that Gen mentioned it, maybe going to the party wasn't such a bad idea. Therese was always so shy, especially when it came to people who could potentially influence her future, but with Genevieve there beside her, she’d surely feel more confident.  
  
'Will you help me?' Therese asked. 'Will you introduce me to people, I mean?'  
  
Gen nodded. 'If that's what you want'.  
  
'And there'll be other students there, right?'  
  
'Sure', she replied simply.  
  
Therese nodded slowly. 'Okay. I'll be there'.  
  
'Good. I'll text you the address tomorrow'.   
  
Genevieve went back to her laptop, letting Therese go. She slipped her glasses back on, before quickly looking up.  
  
'One more thing', she added. 'Dress nice'.

* * *

 

She could hear it from down the corridor; the low hum of conversation, the dreamy haze of soft music, spliced with sudden bursts of laughter that interrupted the steadiness of it all. Therese was drawn to it, but, standing alone at the end of the hall, she felt more comfortable in the quiet.  
  
She looked down at herself, at the soft black skater skirt and the black top she'd tucked into it, the one with a bardot neckline with delicate lace across the top and sleeves that stopped just past her elbows. She hadn't had time, or money, to buy a new outfit for the occasion, so she had tried to improvise. She'd paired the simple ensemble with heeled boots, and she'd curled her hair and winged her eyeliner. She hoped she looked good enough. Gen had told her to dress up, but she had never owned anything truly special.   
  
The door opened suddenly, and the noise that had just been muffled flew out of the doorway and wrapped itself around her, pulling her closer. A middle-aged man with greying hair and thick glasses emerged, and, seeing Therese standing outside, he held the door open for her.  
  
Therese stared at him for a moment, bewildered, before regaining her senses and hurrying towards the door, nodding politely at the man before he left down the corridor. And then, she was inside.  
  
Genevieve's apartment was just like her office. Bright, modern and monochromatic. An exhibition space. Therese had never doubted that Gen's work was her life, but it would have easily been obvious even to a stranger. To Gen, everything was art and therefore so were the spaces she lived in. She created her own masterpiece around her as she went.  
  
It was less bright now, though, with lamps across various surfaces illuminating the room with a soft golden glow. And, across from the front door, a huge window that framed the whole city below, like a tourist's photograph. Therese gazed out in awe, the rest of the room fading out of focus for a moment.   
  
The front door opened out into a huge open living space, dotted with leather sofas, glass coffee tables, polished bookshelves and strange sculptures, with the kitchen on the left-hand side, all black marble and chrome. And there were paintings. Canvases depicting faceless figures across the stark whiteness of the walls. Therese was certain these were Genevieve's own works.  
  
The kitchen was swarming with people, the island counter littered with bottles of wine and spirits, acting as a makeshift bar. And the people were dressed in impeccably, men in smart suits of black and grey, women in silky dresses that brought a splash of colour to the room. Therese self-consciously looked down again at her own outfit, feeling inferior before them.Because these people were all, clearly, very wealthy, and established too. Therese was just a struggling student. And, much to her dismay, she didn't recognise any other students. The youngest person she saw was probably in his early thirties. She didn't belong here, and she couldn't find anyone else like her, with whom she could share the feeling. She was alone.   
  
She hung back by the doorway, too intimidated to step inside any further, hugging her arms as the guests weaved their way around her, talking to each other but never looking her way. Her eyes desperately scanned the room for Genevieve.  
  
And she found her, eventually, talking to an older couple who seemed to hang off her every word, clutching a glass of champagne. She wore a strapless dress of deep purple, fitted at the top and then spilling out into a floaty skirt that fell just past her knees. Half her dark hair was tied up, so her natural waves spilled over her shoulders at two different lengths, and her lips were painted to match her dress, as dark as mulberries.   
  
Therese thought she did it on purpose, dressing so dark and mysterious. She transfixed people, because they were so in awe of her, and with that she had influence over them. It was unsurprising that she was such a well-respected figure in the New York art community.  
  
She looked incredible, and Therese wanted to go to her. But she was busy, too busy for her.   
  
The younger woman decided to stay, nevertheless. She had come all the way out here to the Upper East Side of Manhattan, and she had nowhere else to go tonight anyway. So she would wait for Genevieve.   
  
And she did wait. She sat down on one of the black leather couches in a lonely corner across from the kitchen. She watched as the others socialised, making her even more acutely aware of her position as an outsider. Maybe she was too young, or dressed too casually, or maybe it was because she was so obviously alone, but people didn't try to talk to her.  
  
She had music, though. At least that was something. The speaker was positioned on a shelf behind her, but the music was soft and low, and she doubted that anyone else could hear it. But that made it feel like hers, and she was grateful for the lyrics that occupied her otherwise vacant mind. She felt like she had been sitting there forever.  
  
And then she looked towards the kitchen. That's when something caught her eye. A flash of blue. Electric blue, that was the only way Therese could describe it.   
  
The music was making Therese feel dreamy, stuck between dull consciousness, and for a moment, she thought she might have been hallucinating.   
  


_A touch from your real love_

_Is like heaven taking the place of something evil_  
  
She held her gaze there until a group of people moved away from the counter and revealed the source.  
  
Therese hadn't just dreamed it. There was a woman sat on one of the bar stools at the counter in a suit of electric blue, a white shirt beneath the blazer. It was so vibrant, the rest of the crowd around her faded into one, a blurred image with only her in focus. But it wasn't just the suit that was vibrant, that made her stand out, it was the woman herself. She had golden blonde hair that fell just past her shoulders in soft waves, and she was gently swinging her long legs beneath the stool, black stilettos brushing the floor. She was beautiful, mesmerising. The woman appeared to be alone, and Therese wondered if, like her, she was waiting for someone. She was looking around expectantly.  
  
And then her eyes landed on Therese.  
  
Neither of them flinched, like someone usually does when they make unexpected eye contact with a stranger. Therese just couldn't stop looking at her, and the woman never looked away either. Their gazes were locked on each other in an unspoken staring contest, and they were both too afraid to look away.  
  


_Darlin’, darlin’, darlin’,_

_I fall to pieces_

_When I’m with you_  
  
A small smile formed on the blonde woman's lips.  
  
 _I fall to pieces_

_My cherries and wine_

_Rosemary and thyme_

  
And then she broke their gaze.   
  
Therese would have been disappointed, but the woman's legs had stopped swinging, and in a second she had gracefully slipped down from the bar stool and was walking towards her. Therese watched as she crossed the room, still unable to look away. She felt her heart speed up as the woman approached, feeling nervous and inferior in her presence.  
  
'What are you doing over here all alone?' the woman asked. Her voice was low, with an old quality, like she had just stepped out of the 1950s.  
  
'I don't know anybody here', Therese replied.  
  
She smirked. 'Then I should call security and get you thrown out'.  
  
Therese chuckled. 'Okay, correction. I only know Genevieve'.  
  
'That makes more sense'. The woman sat down on the couch across from her, crossing one leg over the other. 'How do you know Genevieve?'  
  
'I'm one of her students'.  
  
'Really? Which class?'  
  
'Fine art photography'.  
  
'That's her favourite class, you know'.  
  
'Well, she doesn't act like it'.  
  
The woman laughed, and Therese thought that if elegance was a sound, that laugh would be it. Her smile transformed her whole face, lighting it up. Therese couldn't help but smile too.  
  
'What's your name?' the woman asked her.  
  
'Therese. Therese Belivet. And yours?'  
  
'Carol'.  
  
'Carol', Therese repeated to herself.  
  
A red haired man in a tuxedo stopped beside the couch with a tray of champagne. Carol gratefully accepted, and Therese did too, though she never really liked champagne.  
  
'So what kind of a name is Belivet?' Carol asked, taking a sip from the flute.  
  
'It's Czech'.  
  
'You're from the Czech Republic?'  
  
'My parents were. I was born here in New York'.  
  
'In Manhattan?'  
  
Therese smirked. 'In Hunts Point'.  
  
'So you're a Bronx girl'.  
  
'I am'.  
  
'And where do you live now?'  
  
'In East Village. It's close to school, so', she trailed off.  
  
'Do you like it there?'  
  
'I do. And even if I didn't, anywhere is better than Hunts Point'.  
  
'Do your parents still live there?'  
  
Therese shifted uncomfortably. 'Actually, I don't know my parents. They abandoned me when I was a baby'.  
  
Therese braced herself for the onslaught of pity that followed this revelation. _Oh, you poor thing!_ That's what they always said. That's why she'd stopped telling people.   
  
But she realised suddenly how easily her confession had slipped out, how effortless it was to talk to Carol. She almost never talked about this with anyone.  
  
And Carol wasn't looking at her with pity. It was only curiosity in her expression. Therese wasn't anticipating this reaction.  
  
'What happened to you?' Carol asked tentatively.  
  
'I grew up in foster homes, all over the city. I got passed around a lot'.  
  
'And what brought you to East Village?'  
  
'I wanted to study at NYU. Their photography course is excellent. I worked since I was fourteen, saving up the money to move to a better neighbourhood. And I applied for a scholarship, which I was lucky enough to get'.  
  
Carol raised an eyebrow. 'Luck has nothing to do with it. Only truly gifted photographers are awarded scholarships at NYU. I should know. Genevieve often consults me when she's asked to recommend students for scholarships'.  
  
'Do you work at NYU too?'   
  
The older woman shook her head. 'I just work with Gen from time to time. We go way back. No, I'm a photographer. Like you'.  
  
'Oh, I'm not a photographer yet', Therese said, looking away.  
  
'Of course you are', Carol said simply. 'Just because you are not yet employed or don't have your work hanging in a gallery doesn't mean you aren't a photographer. It's not a profession, it's just something you are'.  
  
'I guess so'.  
  
'So what brought you to photography, Therese? Why do you take pictures?'  
  
Therese thought about what to say. It only took a moment for the thought to occur that she could tell Carol the truth, but she never told the truth, the truth was too personal. No one ever cared enough to listen anyway. They always changed the subject as quickly as they could when they found out she was a foster kid.  
  
But this time was different. Carol was different. And then it was easy, and Therese found the words tumbling out of her mouth.  
  
'Because they're a window into someone else's life’, she answered. ‘And that's all I wanted when I was a kid. Someone else's life. I used to save up all my allowance to buy disposable cameras, and I took pictures of friends, neighbours, kids at school, people I met out in the street. Mostly when they weren't looking, because that way I could capture their truest selves. And every person inspired me, because they showed me so many possibilities of what my life could be like, when one day I would be old enough to make my own decisions. To make something of myself. And to live the life I wanted'.  
  
Therese caught herself, suddenly remembering where she was. She realised she could have kept talking for hours, talking about that one part of herself that she repressed. Therese never talked about her past, because she wanted to leave it behind, but also because she was afraid that people would look at her differently. But there was something about Carol that unlocked her. She didn't care what Carol knew, in fact, she almost wanted her to know. She wanted to be open and honest and nostalgic, because the look in Carol's eyes told her she could be all those things.  
  
And it was utterly confounding.   
  
Therese shook her head and blinked hard, shaking away the daze. 'I'm sorry. I don't know why I told you all that'.  
  
'Don't be sorry. I wanted to know. And that's the reason'.  
  
'Yes', Therese confirmed. 'I like that something as simple as a picture allows you to see a person'.  
  
'But you don't like to be seen yourself', Carol observed.  
  
Therese blinked. 'Why do you say that?'  
  
'Because you're uncomfortable', the older woman noticed. 'I never meant to make you uncomfortable, I was just interested'.  
  
'Why?'  
  
Carol shrugged. 'I like hearing people's stories. And I've heard a lot. That's why I can tell that you don't like to be seen. You don't share your story often, do you?'  
  
The look on her face told Therese she already knew the answer anyway.   
  
'No', she conceded.  
  
A small smile formed on Carol's lips. 'Then I am honoured to have heard it'.  
  
Therese saw Carol's eyes flicker upwards, over the top of her head, and as she did, she felt a hand rest on her shoulder, a voice addressing her.  
  
'You came'.  
  
Genevieve perched on the arm of the couch, her hand gently moving across the back of Therese's shoulders until her arm was around her. Therese saw her professor looking down at her from her place on the arm, as if she was watching over her, like she had done on that first day in the office.  
  
'I've been here for ages', Therese told her, unable to hide the hint of annoyance in her voice.  
  
'I'm sorry, baby'. Gen caressed her cheek, then leaned down to whisper in her ear, the older woman's hair tickling the side of her face. 'Stay with me tonight. I'll make it up to you later'.  
  
Therese shivered, and Carol watched the two of them, sipping her drink, a knowing twinkle in her eye.  
  
'I have to go talk to all these boring rich artists', Gen continued out loud, then nodded towards Carol. 'I see you've met one already'.  
  
Carol laughed. 'Hey, watch it, Cantrell, maybe I'll stop coming to these things, and then you really _will_ be left with boring rich artists'.  
  
'Carol told me you sometimes work with her on choosing students for scholarships', Therese interjected.   
  
'I do. And she's the best. There's no one else I trust'.  
  
'You've been friends for a long time?  
  
'You could say that'.  
  
'About fourteen years', Carol said.  
  
Gen smirked. 'Too long'.  
  
' _Way_ too long', Carol agreed.  
  
Aside from their banter, Therese sensed a true respect between them. She found herself wondering about their history, but Gen was disappearing before she had the chance to ask any more questions, promising she'd be back soon.  
  
Carol stayed with Therese for a while longer. They mostly talked about Therese's work and her college projects, Carol's questions never ceasing and Therese only too happy to answer them. But it was getting late, and the number of remaining guests was dwindling. Genevieve was subtly encouraging her guests to leave. Carol could tell by the way every person Gen spoke to collected their coats and bags just minutes after she left them.  
  
'I should be going', Carol said, standing up.  
  
Therese was reluctant to say goodbye to her, having enjoyed being in her company so much. She felt more comfortable around Carol than she had around anyone in a long time. Well, anyone except Dannie. But to feel like she could be herself around this complete stranger was a rarity for Therese, and she treasured the warmth that Carol had brought her.  
  
'Will I see you again?' Therese asked hopefully.  
  
Carol smiled. 'I'm certain of it'.  
  
Therese watched as she said goodbye to Gen, kissing her cheek and promising to call her over the next few days, and her eyes didn't leave Carol until the blonde woman left the apartment, with a final wave in her direction. And as Therese's gaze lingered on the door Carol closed behind her, she realised, for all Therese had shared about herself, she knew almost nothing about the woman she had just spent her evening with.   
  
It hit her how much she would give to know her, how desperate she was to see her again.  
  
It was overwhelming.  
  
  


 


	5. The Truth About Therese

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for staying with me. Have a great week everyone!

Two weeks after the party, on an unusually warm Wednesday morning, was the first time Therese woke up in Genevieve's arms.  
  
Her eyelids had fluttered open to the harsh brightness that streamed through the blinds, which were left partially open. The sky was blue outside, and the bedroom was flooded with light, which meant that the sun was high and it was late, later than she wanted to get up.  
  
It took her a moment, as she drifted from the haze of sleep, to feel the slender arm draped across her waist. Therese reached a hand to her stomach and lightly traced a line along the other woman's smooth skin. She turned over slowly to look at her. Gen was still sleeping soundly, hair as black as the night spilling over her shoulders and neck like a scarf, her face serene, without a trace of make-up.   
  
It was a strange moment, to see her like this, so completely peaceful, so naturally beautiful. The feared Dr Genevieve Cantrell in her most basic form. It was a side of her people never got to see, even for Therese. Every morning she had woken up in Gen's bed, she had been alone. The older woman had already left the apartment, having gone to teach a class or attend a meeting. Sometimes the excuses were more unstable. Therese didn't mind, though. She'd learned, over these past weeks, never to expect to wake up next to Gen.  
  
But now, here she was, holding Therese. It felt odd. After the night before, the fierceness of their kisses, Gen's hand on her throat, sharp nails at the back of her neck, down her spine, inside her. And now this. It was so gentle.  
  
That's why it was so strange to Therese. Because sleeping with Gen had nothing to do with love. She was still struggling to define their relationship, because no conventional label seemed to fit. She'd never done anything like this before, and she didn't know how to explain it even to herself.   
  
'I can feel you staring at me', came a soft murmur.   
  
Gen hadn't opened her eyes yet, and her voice was still heavy with sleep.  
  
Therese smiled. 'What, are you some sort of psychic or something?' she teased. 'How many fingers am I holding up?'  
  
'Shut up', Gen said, a smile forming on her lips. She opened her eyes then, with a flutter of dark eyelashes. 'No, I just felt you moving'.  
  
'I'm sorry I woke you', Therese apologised.  
  
'No, baby, we should be getting up anyway'. Genevieve rolled over, checking her cell phone on the bedside table. 'Shit. It's ten thirty'.  
  
She sighed, covering her face with the heavy white duvet, as if trying to catch a last few seconds of sleep, then pushed it aside and slipped out of bed.  
  
Therese watched her go, hips swaying as she walked, pale skin sparkling in the morning light, colouring her dark hair with gold. The waves were still tousled from where Therese had tangled her hands in them the night before.  
  
'I can still feel you staring', Gen called behind her without turning. Therese laughed to herself.  
  
The younger woman gathered yesterday's clothes from the floor and changed into them as she listened to the stream of water from Gen's shower. She dragged a brush through her hair, pulling a face at herself in the mirror as she noticed the dark circles beneath her eyes and the tiny smudge of yesterday's mascara beneath her lashes. She looked so tired, and she felt it too. This is the part she hated, having to leave Gen's and head out into the street looking like she hadn't slept. It was the truth, she barely slept when she stayed at Gen's, but she wished that wasn't so obvious on her face.  
  
It was strange. Therese had been wandering around in a daze this past few weeks, like she'd stumbled into someone else's life and was expected to know how to live it.Waking up next to Gen was another first, another thing she didn't know how to handle. The older woman was completely unpredictable, and their meetings ended with either Genevieve's absence, or her short temper, snapping at Therese to get out, she had things to do. Each time it was something different. Therese could never fall into complacency around Gen, could never feel comfortable with her, because she never knew what was coming next.  
  
It was a level of discomfort she'd gotten acquainted with, but she often wondered if the novelty of it was starting to wear off.  
  
Therese poked her head around the bathroom door to say goodbye to Gen, who was brushing through her wet hair, watching her reflection in the steamed-up mirror.  
  


* * *

   
  
They had a lecture that same day, in the late afternoon. Therese showed up early.  
  
Now she was sleeping with Genevieve, she figured she'd try to keep as low a profile as possible. She didn't need to be drawing attention to herself by turning up late if Gen wouldn't punish her for it. Considering the professor's reputation, it wouldn't take long for her fellow students to figure out what was going on.  
  
So Therese behaved impeccably and worked hard. She hid in plain sight, because who would question Genevieve's favouritism if Therese was a model student?  
  
She waited, tapping her pen impatiently against the desk, as the class filed into the lecture hall and Gen took her spot by the front desk.  
  
'So, before we begin today, I have an announcement to make', Genevieve began, and the room fell into silence. 'All of you will know the work of Carol Aird, she's one of the most established photographers in the country. She's shot celebrities for Vanity Fair, and supermodels for Vogue. She's one of the best in the business. Now, Carol Aird just happens to be an old friend, and I've convinced her to set up a programme of portrait photography workshops outside of class'.  
  
An excited whisper spread throughout the room like wildfire. Therese listened to Genevieve eagerly, slightly bitter that she hadn't mentioned this before. She didn't even know Gen knew Carol Aird. An old friend? Why hadn't Gen told her?   
  
Carol Aird. Therese began to connect the dots.  
  
 _Carol_. The woman from the party. Her Carol, the one she kept thinking about since they met. _It has to be her._  
  
'I know this is a very exciting opportunity for all of you, one you will take very seriously. But, there are a lot of you, and Carol can only take so many. So, if you want a place in the workshop, you'll have to apply for it'. Gen pulled out a stack of papers from her bag. 'I'll leave these application forms here at the end of the desk, so you can take one on the way out. You'll have to explain why Carol should consider you, and why you are interested in portrait photography. You won't need to submit any of your work, as I already have copies of your portfolios. This has all been organised very quickly, meaning the workshops are starting next week, and you will need to have your completed application forms on my desk by 4 o'clock tomorrow afternoon. For those of you who are successful, you will be invited to meet with Carol on Monday'.   
  
The whispers started up again. Therese shut them out.   
  
She was elated at the thought of getting to study with a professional photographer, but especially because it was Carol. Carol, who was so kind and interesting. Therese couldn't have known that this Carol was Carol Aird, and she would never have guessed. For someone so successful, she was so humble. She had listened to Therese, she had paid attention to her when no one else would. She asked questions anyone else would shy away from. It was why Therese would never have expected her to be who she was. And it was why Therese often found Carol on her mind.  
  
Therese watched the minutes tick by for the rest of the lecture, Gen's voice blurred in the background, like she was listening through a wall. She wondered why she even bothered to show up to these classes any more. There was always something else that distracted her, something that filled her mind up entirely and left no room to take in anything else. Sometimes, she was staring at Gen like a goddess she worshipped. Other times, she was mad at her over something she'd said or done, or for generally treating her like a toy she could play with and then drop when she was bored. Today, she was annoyed because she had kept Carol's identity a secret.   
  
Genevieve finished up, after what seemed like hours, and the students started to file out of the lecture hall. Therese hung back, pretending to look for something in her bag so as not to appear suspicious. As the last few people left, she went down to the front desk, where Gen was packing up her things.   
  
'I want in on those workshops', Therese announced.  
  
'I thought you might', the professor smiled. 'And even if you didn't, I already showed Carol your work, and she wants you'.  
  
'That was her, wasn't it? At the party?'  
  
Genevieve nodded simply. 'Yes. That was her'.  
  
'Gen, what the fuck?' Therese demanded. 'Why didn't you tell me?'  
  
The professor looked at her, eyes cold. 'Would you have acted differently if you'd known who she was?'  
  
'Yes! Of course I would'.  
  
'Then I was right not to tell you', she responded simply.  
  
'Why?' Therese frowned.  
  
'Carol Aird isn't interested in how much you admire her work, or how you want to be a famous photographer. She cares deeply about people. She wants to hear you story, no matter how ordinary it might be. It's what makes her such a great portrait photographer. She can see people for who they really are'.  
  
'You never told me you knew her', Therese said quietly.  
  
'It’s not something I brag about'.  
  
'Why not?' the younger woman pressed.  
  
'She's modest', Gen shrugged. Then she smiled, like she was remembering something funny, and said, 'besides, she doesn't like to be affiliated with me'.  
  
'What are you talking about?'  
  
Gen looked at her. 'So many questions', she shook her head, smiling flirtatiously. 'Forget it, baby. It's not important'.  
  
Her smile vanished, and her face was suddenly cold again. She picked up her laptop bag, and turned to leave, the click of her high heels echoing in the empty room. Therese didn't follow her, and she was left alone in the empty lecture hall, staring after Genevieve, wishing, for once, the older woman would let herself be understood.   
  


* * *

 

Monday rolled around, and the dread Therese usually felt about the beginning of the week was replaced by a burst of excitement and fear that mingled into one and sat like a stone in the pit of her stomach.  
  
Today she would see Carol again.  
  
She had opened up her emails on Saturday afternoon, and, sure enough, there was an email from the office of Carol Aird, congratulating her on gaining a place to be mentored by Carol and inviting her to meet at the office.  
  
The meeting was in Manhattan, and Therese got out of bed way earlier than she needed to so she could spend a little more time getting ready. She had left the apartment in her favourite outfit, a soft pinstripe shirt tucked into black skinny jeans, and her worn-out denim jacket, which was way too big for her and made for a great protection against the cold breeze outside. She'd straightened her hair, winged her eyeliner, fastened tiny sliver hoops in her ears.   
  
She felt confident when she made an effort like this. And she needed to feel confident, because today felt like a kind of job interview, though the email had promised the meeting would be completely informal. Therese knew the other students would be feeling the same way, though. They all wanted to make a good impression on Carol. And Therese had the upper hand, having met Carol before.  
  
She got off the subway early and walked the rest of the way, getting coffee from a local café as she went. The paper cup warmed her fingers. The sun still shone, but it was low now, and the cold of fall had finally set in.  
  
Now she was waiting in the reception area of the office building, sitting anxiously in a vast space of glass and white tile, light reflecting off every surface, making the place seem enormous, never-ending. But Therese didn't shrink in the space, though the brightness tried to make her. She held her place, and her nerves, heavy as they were, were a motivation. She was here for a reason.   
  
A receptionist called her name and took her to the elevator, showed her to Carol's office on the twenty-seventh floor.She spent the elevator ride shifting uncomfortably, unable to stand still. She was led out of the elevator, through a series of identical glass doors, and finally, into the office.

And then there she was, tall and statuesque, her slim figure clad in blue skinny jeans and a plain white t-shirt, with a light grey blazer and black high heels.   
  
'Therese'. Carol's face softened as she saw her, coming over to greet her at the door. The receptionist left them.  
  
'It's wonderful to see you again', Carol smiled, extending a hand. Therese shook it, smiling back. 'Come, sit'.  
  
Therese took a seat opposite the desk. The office was big, bigger than Gen's, but more homely than Gen's too. Whereas the professor's was cold and monochrome, Carol's walls were painted the colour of cappuccino, adorned with photographs of family, friends and a scattering of awards.  
  
'So, have your classes been going well?' Carol asked. 'Gen showed me your photographs. I knew I had to work with you as soon as I saw them'.  
  
'I'm doing well, I hope', she answered, though she couldn't be less interested in talking to Carol about her college work. There was something she wanted to say first.  
  
'I'm sorry I didn't know who you were at the party', she told her. 'I mean, I didn't know you were Carol Aird. I wouldn't have rambled on and on about myself so much, if I knew'.  
  
Carol eyed her curiously. 'What are you talking about?'  
  
'I mean, I'm sure you had much better people to talk to than me. I'm sorry you got stuck with me at the party'.  
  
Carol chuckled. 'Darling, I don't know what you think of me, but I think you're fascinating. I had a wonderful time with you. Don't shrink yourself like that'.  
  
'I just thought you came over because you pitied me', Therese looked away.  
  
'Well, you _were_ sitting alone. Why was that?'  
  
'I didn't know anyone at the party. Genevieve told me there might be other students there, but in the end I was the only one. And she was busy the whole time'.  
  
'And Gen didn't introduce you to anyone?'  
  
Therese shook her head, ashamed that Carol had to know how little Genevieve cared about her.  
  
Carol looked surprised.   
  
'Strange', she commented. 'Gen has a bizarre way of acting sometimes. But you already know that'.  
  
Therese shifted uncomfortably.   
  
'What do you know about me and Gen?' she asked awkwardly.   
  
'Enough', Carol replied simply. 'But that's your business. I won't ever treat you any different because of it, and you don't need to fear what I know, because I won't share it. Okay?'  
  
Therese nodded, a sigh of relief escaping her lips, comforted by her response.   
  
When she lifted her head again, Carol was looking at her intently. Her eyes were so light they were almost grey, but still they held such a burning fascination. Therese wondered how such a thing was possible.  
  
'What a strange girl you are', Carol said absentmindedly.  
  
'Why?'  
  
Carol paused, looking away as if to avoid her gaze.   
  
'Flung out of space'.  
  
The two women sat in a tense silence for only a couple of seconds, despite it seeming to stretch out over several minutes and hours and days in which Therese was unable to look away from Carol. But the moment was interrupted as the door swung open.  
  
'Harge called, he said he wants- oh, sorry, you're busy'.  
  
A tall, slim brunette dressed in a dark grey dress and knee high boots continued to make her way towards Carol's desk, a steaming mug of coffee in each hand.  
  
'I'll tell you later', she said to Carol as she handed her a mug, which Carol gratefully accepted.  
  
'Did you want anything?' the woman asked Therese bluntly.  
  
'Oh, no, thank you', Therese replied politely, still slightly startled by the sudden interruption.   
  
_What had Carol meant?_  
  
'Abby, this is Therese', Carol introduced them.  
  
'Oh, so _you’re_ Therese', the brunette eyed her, perching on the edge of Carol's desk and extending a hand to Therese. 'I'm Abby. Personal assistant and best friend'. Therese shook her hand nervously. 'Also a friend of Gen's. I know you two are very well acquainted'.  
  
'Abby!' Carol scolded.  
  
'What?' Abby giggled, a mischievous sparkle in her eye. 'I'm just playing with her'. She turned her attention back to Therese. 'Don't worry, honey. Any tiny thing like you that can fuck Cantrell and still be able to walk the day after has earned my respect for life'.  
  
'Jesus, Abby!' Carol gasped in horror. 'Get out!'  
  
'I'm going, I'm going', Abby held her hands up in concession as she moved from the desk and towards the door. 'See you around, Therese', she called behind her.  
  
Carol turned to Therese with a look of sheer panic on her face, and to her surprise, Therese laughed.   
  
For the younger woman, it was the only way she could possibly react. Later, she would be mortified, but for now, Therese was so amused and shocked by Abby's brazenness, there was nothing she could do but laugh.  
  
And Carol laughed too. They were both unsure of how to deal with the fact that Abby had just humiliated Therese in front of Carol, that was certain. But there was such an easiness between them, such a familiar sense of comfort, that they could dismiss the awkwardness.  
  
'Please ignore her', Carol said when they finally stopped laughing. 'She's always like that. I don't know why I keep her around'.  
  
'She seems . . . nice', Therese said, struggling to find the right word.  
  
'Nice?'  
  
'Okay, maybe not nice. She's outgoing'.  
  
'She's crazy!'  
  
Therese giggled. 'How long have you been friends?'  
  
'Forever', Carol said fondly. 'That's what it seems like. I don't know, around twenty-five years. Since we were teenagers anyway'.  
  
'That's wonderful', Therese smiled.  
  
'I think you always stay friends with those you share the most important events of your life with'. Carol's voice had descended into a dream-like state as nostalgia washed over her. 'Even if you grow apart, which thankfully we never did. She was the maid of honour at my wedding, and she's Godmother to my daughter'.  
  
'Is that your daughter?' Therese asked, nodding towards the delicate silver frame that sat at the edge of Carol's desk, angled towards the centre just enough that she could see the photograph inside. It was a little girl with light hair and eyes, laughing, though her eyes were elsewhere. Therese thought she might be looking at Carol behind the camera. It was Carol making her laugh.  
  
'Yes', the older woman smiled lovingly at the photograph, as if even a glimpse of the girl was enough to make her proud. It was only a look, but it told Therese everything.

  
Carol picked up the photograph, holding it out to Therese. 'Her name is Rindy'.  
  
'How old is she?' Therese asked, taking in the image, the adorable smile, the soft waves in her hair, like her mother's, and the red and white summer dress.  
  
'She's seven'.  
  
'She's beautiful'. Therese looked up from the photograph and saw the same face, but older and wiser. 'She looks just like you'.  
  
She handed the photograph back to Carol, who smiled down at it as she took it. 'She looks just like I did when I was that age. She's moody like I was too. Unfortunately she inherited the temper of her father to go with it'.  
  
A darkness passed over her face then, like a cloud in front of the sun, and Therese noticed as that loving smile faded from her lips.  
  
'How long have you been married to your husband?' Therese asked, curiosity getting the better of her.  
  
'Too long', Carol said shortly. 'That's why I'm divorcing him'.  
  
'Oh. I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to-'  
  
'Not at all, darling', she interrupted. She sighed. 'We've been separated for a long while, but we're going through the divorce process now. I'll be glad when it's all over, to be honest with you. It just didn't work out for us. Which is a shame for Rindy, not having her parents together any more. She lives with Harge now, and I barely get to see her. He’s punishing me. After all it’s my fault our marriage ended. I tried to stay with him. I wanted to have that perfect family. But it wasn't that simple. I don't love him'.  
  
Therese had been staring intently at Carol, but Carol didn’t look back at her. She was staring out of the window, voice distant, mind in some far-off place that Therese wished she could reach. But, momentarily, she was lost.   
  
Her eyes flickered back to Therese, and she shook her head, coming back to the room, eyes showing the hint of alarm at having suddenly realised where she was and who she was with.   
  
'Sorry, you don't care about all that', she said, voice still withdrawing from the distance. 'We'll get back to the workshops'.  
  
Therese nodded, keen for Carol to change the subject. In those few seconds of silence, the two women's gaze locked on each other, like it had that first time at the party, and once again, Therese felt like Carol was inescapable. It was like a force that bound them together, the pull of a magnet. She saw the darkness lingering in the light of Carol's eyes, the pain and vulnerability behind the warm exterior.  
  
She didn't want the older woman to leave her again, not even for a moment. She found herself yearning to reach out to her, to take her by the hand and lead her away from that far off state of mind she had lost her to, from the troubles she had barely mentioned but had given away so much.   
  
And Therese knew that Carol felt the same about her. Like she had felt so strangely compelled to reveal the struggles of her past, Carol had opened up to Therese without even realising she was doing it. The other woman barely needed to question, because both were drawn to the knowledge of each other, the truths they tried to ignore, and each were only too willing to share in return.   
  
Therese felt she'd known her forever already.

 

* * *

 

  
  
'There you are'.  
  
Dannie was sitting at the breakfast bar reading a Daphne du Maurier novel when Therese arrived home late on Tuesday night.  
  
'Hey', Therese greeted him casually, dropping her bag by the side of the door and immediately going to the kitchen to fill the kettle. The cold water splashed against her hands.   
  
'Do you want coffee?' she asked Dannie.  
  
'No, I'm good', he responded.   
  
Therese turned around, leaning back against the counter as the sound of the boiling kettle slowly grew louder, to find Dannie watching her.  
  
'What?' she asked.  
  
'Are you going to tell me where you've been?' he inquired.   
  
'Does it matter?' she responded vaguely, attempting to shut him down before he questioned her any further.  
  
The truth was, she'd been at Genevieve's. It was as simple as that, but revealing it would open up a can of worms.   
  
Dannie sighed. 'Yeah, Tee, it matters', he told her seriously. 'I've been staying out of your business for weeks now. I don't ask you questions, I don't try to make plans with you because I know you're too busy for me right now. But honestly, it's gone too far. I'm worried about you. You're tense all the time, you're constantly tired, you snap at me for no reason. You barely even say a word to me. And we haven't been to Waterloo in two weeks! You love hanging out there'.  
  
'I know. I'm sorry I haven't been making time for you'.  
  
'It's not about me. I just . . . I just wanna know what's going on. You always speak to me about everything, and now suddenly you've shut me out. Don't you think I deserve to know why?'  
  
'Everything's fine', Therese mumbled awkwardly.  
  
'There we go again'. He shook his head, voice wavering on the line between anger and hurt. 'Shutting me out. Don't pretend like everything is normal. I know you. And I know you're not fine'.  
  
Therese looked at him and saw the genuine concern on his face, and she felt a pang of pain in her chest. He cared for her so deeply, so much that he prioritised her wellbeing over his own loss of his best friend. And she knew he would never guess what was really going on. As long as she kept if from him, he would never suspect. The truth was the last thing he would consider. And that's what made her want to tell him.   
  
She _could_ tell him. He would think she was a total idiot, but he wouldn't be mad. _Right_?   
  
Therese bit her lip, mulling it over. He wouldn't tell, he wouldn't hate her, and he definitely wouldn't understand. But he would support her anyway. Because that's what he always did.   
  
_It’s just Dannie. I can trust him with anything._  
  
The prospect of letting him in on her secret, of sharing the weight she carried on her shoulders that grew heavier each day, was too tempting to resist.  
  
And then she blurted it out.   
  
'What if I told you I was sleeping with Genevieve Cantrell?'  
  
Dannie looked taken aback, shocked into attention by the sudden force of her voice, of what she was saying.  
  
'I'd say you were fucking with me'. He folded his arms, like he was challenging her, too smart to be fooled by her prank.  
  
'What if I told you I was being serious?'  
  
'I'd still call bullshit'.   
  
She looked at him with no hint of emotion, no sign of a smile, hoping the darkness of her face would convince him. 'I _am_ serious, Dannie'.  
  
'You're funny', he said, but his voice wavered now, losing confidence in his certainty that Therese was joking. 'I'm gonna give you points for originality with that one'.  
  
'Dannie', she tried again, voice barely more than a whisper.  
  
She saw his face drop from that uncertain smile as he finally acknowledged the truth.  
  
'Holy shit', he whispered.   
  
Therese tried to gauge his response, to predict what he would say.   
  
'Holy shit!' he repeated, loudly this time. 'Holy shit!'  
  
'Are you going to say anything else?'  
  
'I don't know if I can. Holy shit, Tee! How long has this been going on?'  
  
'About two months'.  
  
A realisation dawned on his face, as he finally understood why Therese had been acting out of character, as the past several weeks started to make sense. 'She's the one you meant when you told Richard there was someone else! So that's why you said it was complicated'.   
  
'It was good excuse not to tell you, but I wasn't lying', Therese explained, a small smile playing across her lips, proud of the loophole she'd found.  
  
'Well, it's pretty fucking complicated!' Dannie exclaimed.  
  
'Yeah'.  
  
'I can't believe you didn't tell me!'  
  
'I didn't tell anyone', she shrugged.   
  
'Well, yeah. You don't want that secret getting out. Everyone on campus would know after five minutes'. Dannie sighed, running a hand through his hair. He looked at her earnestly. 'You're in so much trouble, Tee'.  
  
'Yeah', she responded quietly. 'I know'.  
  


 

 


	6. A New Muse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks for reading. Hope everyone is having a good week.

Therese chewed on her lip, watching as the little blue light flashed in the top corner of her cell phone.  
  
 _Don’t look at it._  
  
The flashing light taunted her. _Why now_? This day was supposed to go without a hitch. She'd been looking forward to it all week. And now a text message was going to screw it all up.  
  
She was sitting on the wall outside the studio, swinging her legs so the hard heels of her boots bumped against the concrete. She'd come out to Brooklyn way too early, more out of sheer excitement than fear of being late. She couldn't stay away. Today was the first of Carol's workshops.  
  
But her phone lighting up with Genevieve's name was the last thing she'd expected. The older woman had been ignoring her all week.  
  
Eventually, her curiosity got the better of her. It might have been because she was so early that she didn't have anything better to do than to obsess over the words on the screen. She cursed herself.  
  
And she read the message.  
  


 _Hi baby. I was hoping I could take you out to dinner tonight. Let me know where to pick you up. Gen x_  
  
A deep sigh escaped her lips. _Now she wants to take me to dinner_? Therese had texted her every day for the first three days, but she'd started to give up towards the end of the week. It was Friday now, and the last time she'd heard from Gen was Saturday, when she'd left the apartment after spending the night. It was one of every four weeks where she didn’t have a seminar or lecture in fine art photography, so she hadn't seen her at school either. The professor had dropped off the face of the earth. And Therese didn't appreciate being left hanging like this.  
  
'Therese?'  
  
She looked up from her cell phone.  
  
Carol was stood opposite at the edge of the sidewalk, leaning back against a silver Lexus, arms folded. The older woman smiled as Therese noticed her, her face lighting up with that familiar warmth, like a ray of sunshine.   
  
She took Therese's breath away. Standing there in her blue skinny jeans and white button-up shirt, sleeves rolled up past her elbows, her soft golden waves illuminated by the sunlight and minimal make-up showing her natural radiance, Therese thought she had never seen someone more beautiful.  
  
'You're early', Carol pointed out in her velvety voice.   
  
In spite of herself, Therese felt a smile on her lips, and her thoughts of Genevieve faded into the back of her mind, like a ship disappearing beyond the horizon.  
  
'I know', she said. 'I was too eager'.  
  
'You're good. But I'll tell you a secret. Nobody likes a kiss-ass', Carol teased.  
  
'No, really', Therese insisted with a laugh.  
  
She smiled sincerely. 'Well, I'm glad to hear it'.  
  
Carol went to open the back door of the car and began pulling cardboard boxes from the back seat, lining them up along the sidewalk. Therese watched her as if she was caught up in a daydream, admiring the way the dark denim clung to her slim legs, long like a supermodel's, as she leaned into the back seat to take out another box.   
  
_Focus, Therese,_ she scolded herself.   
  
'Here, let me help you', she offered as Carol took one of the boxes under one arm and fished a small set of silver keys from her pocket with her free hand. A braided string in red, green and yellow hung from the keychain, like an unfinished friendship bracelet. Therese wondered if Rindy had made it.  
  
'Thanks', Carol smiled gratefully as Therese took a box in each arm and followed her to the door of the building.   
  
'What's all this stuff?' Therese asked. Each box was closed with a band of masking tape, but she found herself increasingly curious as to why Carol was bringing so much to the class.  
  
'A friend of mine owns this studio, but he's out of town until after the workshops are over', she explained, twisting the key in the lock and leaning all her weight against the door to push it open. 'So it’s mine until he's back. I'm unofficially moving in'.  
  
The two women walked through into a large open space, the click of their shoes against the wooden floor the only sound, filling the air with echoes.   
  
In the middle of the room was a line of wooden tables that formed a U shape, facing a front desk with a projector and screen, and, to the left, four black leather couches arranged in a square around a coffee table littered with photo-books and magazines. There were computers along both sides of the walls, only leaving room for a doorway that led to a small kitchen and a corridor that extended further than Therese could see. At the back was a studio setup, with a white screen and a collection of lights and tripods stacked away to the side.  
  
Carol noticed Therese staring at the place in awe.  
  
'Do you like it?' she asked, grinning.  
  
Therese nodded. 'It's amazing'.  
  
'This place is mostly used for teaching, but it occasionally doubles as a studio', Carol explained. 'It's been around for a long time. I did some of my earliest work here'.  
  
The pride in her voice made Therese smile. Carol was one of the most successful photographers in the country, but she clearly hadn't forgotten where she had started out. And, for that, Therese admired her even more.  
  
They finished bringing in all the boxes from the sidewalk, stacking them against the wall by the front desk.  
  
'Well, we still have half an hour before class starts', Carol said, disappearing behind the wall that separated the main room and the tiny kitchen area. 'Coffee?'  
  
Therese accepted gratefully. The day was already looking brighter.   
  


* * *

  
  
'I know this seems kind of like a classroom, and I'm kind of like your teacher, but this isn't college, and I'm not going to act like it is', Carol addressed the small group of students.  
  
Therese recognised a few faces from her fine art photography lectures, but there was nobody she knew. It didn't bother her, though. She had Carol.   
  
_Her_ Carol. Everyone in the room was gazing at her adoringly, and Therese felt a pang of jealousy when she saw them.  
  
'So go make yourself coffee, talk to each other, ask lots of questions or don't ask any. I'm your mentor, not your teacher. I'm not going to punish you for not showing up or being late or not participating. That's all up to you, but just remember a lot of people wanted to be here. Not treating these sessions as a beneficial opportunity would be disrespectful to those people, and also to Genevieve Cantrell, who convinced me to lead them. Does anyone have any questions, to start with?'  
  
The room remained silent, the students still staring at Carol like they were starstruck in her presence.  
  
'Okay, I'll take that as a no', Carol smiled. 'In that case, I'd like to start by getting to know everyone a little better, since we'll be spending several weeks together in these workshops. So, I'm going to ask your name, and an interesting fact about yourself'.  
  
Carol's suggestion was met by a murmur that rose up from the students.  
  
'I know, I know, everyone hates doing this', Carol chuckled. 'But it does work. Let's start with you'. She gestured towards a tall, stocky man with sandy brown hair.  
  
'Hi, I'm Jack', he said, voice confident but warm. 'I play baseball in my spare time'.  
  
'Nice to meet you, Jack', Carol nodded at him in greeting.  
  
They moved on to the girl sitting next to him. She had pale skin dotted with freckles and long red hair that fell, poker straight, down to her hips. 'I'm Anna, and I speak four languages', she introduced herself.  
  
'Wow, amazing!' Carol exclaimed. The girl smiled at the compliment. Therese smiled too. Carol had that effect on people.  
  
They continued around the circle, and, at the half way point, it was Therese's turn. Carol's eyes landed on her.  
  
'And what about you?' she asked, the corners of her lips turning up into a mischievous smile. 'What's your name?'  
  
Therese bit her lip to hide her smile. 'I'm Therese', she replied, staring back at Carol defiantly.   
  
'Not Theresa?' Carol asked, eyes sparkling.  
  
Therese almost laughed, but stopped herself before she could give herself away. 'No, just Therese. I'm Czech, but I was born here and I've never been out of the tri-state area'.  
  
Carol raised an eyebrow. 'Interesting', she said slowly. Her eyes lingered on Therese for a little longer than necessary before she moved on to the next person.  
  
Soon, everyone had given their name, and it was time for Carol to introduce their first task.  
  
'I thought we'd start with something rather difficult. I'm going to throw you in at the deep end, as they say. This week is for self-portraits'.  
  
 _Oh no_.  
  
Therese groaned inwardly. She hated being on camera, that's why she spent so much time behind it. She'd found her place there, she was comfortable there, and she could hide there. Self-portraits were her idea of hell.   
  
'We're going to study some of the principle techniques of the self-portrait, and then I'm going to let you take your cameras and use any of the equipment over there so you can try out some of your own', Carol explained. 'The point is, self-portraits are difficult because usually you can't see what you're photographing as you do it. So, let's see how you handle it'.

* * *

  
  
Therese felt the burning orange of the studio lights against her bare skin as she sat in front of her camera. She put up both of her arms across her face, so only her eyes were visible through gap. And there she waited, until the timer ran out and she heard the snap of the shutter. She waited another moment before sliding off the stool and going back to the tripod.  
  
Most other students were taking their photographs in other parts of the room, in dark corners or under the skylight, or uploading them to the computers for editing. Therese had waited patiently for her turn in front of the screen, where the lights were already set up and all she had to do was sit on a stool and stare down the lens.   
  
She didn't have any other ideas, no creative thoughts over how to present herself in an image. But she'd never found herself particularly inspiring.   
  
For the next shot, she looked away from the camera, to the left-hand side and down at the ground. It could make for an interesting profile, she thought. And her face would be shielded from the light.   
  
_Snap_.  
  
When she looked back, she found Carol standing at the side of her tripod, looking at her inquisitively, head tilted to one side. She almost jumped at the sight of her, having not heard her approach.   
  
'What?' Therese giggled when Carol remained silent.  
  
'Have you really never been out of New York?'  
  
Therese shook her head with a sad smile. 'I never had the money', she admitted.  
  
'And yet you see so much', Carol mused. 'You have the artistic eye of someone who's travelled the world'.  
  
'Don't speak to soon', Therese smirked, nodding at the camera in front of her. She was flattered by such a compliment, nevertheless.   
  
'I'm sure they're wonderful', Carol assured her.   
  
She stepped closer to the tripod until she was standing right behind it, so she could see what the camera saw. She bit her lip as she regarded Therese, clearly figuring out her next advice. The younger woman waited in anticipation.  
  
'Try tilting your head further this way', Carol demonstrated, turning her head upwards and to the right, like she was looking into the sky.  
  
Therese followed, feeling the light flood her face as she moved. She'd been trying to avoid this shot. The strength of the light on her face would expose every mark, every blemish. She would be completely at the mercy of the lens.   
  
Carol took the shot. Therese was startled by the sound of the shutter and looked over at her mentor. Carol looked down at the screen on the camera for a moment, and then glanced up at her.  
  
'Excellent', she praised.  
  
Her eyes flickered back down to the screen, and Therese shifted anxiously on the stool as she heard the beep of the button Carol used to flip through every photograph she had just taken of herself. She was slightly uncomfortable at the thought of Carol seeing them. She felt exposed, bare.  
  
But she watched Carol smirk behind the camera, eyes still fixed on the little screen.  
  
'Would you look at that. I think you've found a new muse, Therese'.  
  
The younger woman smiled shyly as Carol turned away, moving to the next desk.  
  


* * *

 

Therese pushed her noodles around her plate with a single chopstick. She'd barely touched her food. She wasn't hungry.   
  
Genevieve had noticed too. The older woman's eyes drifted from Therese, to her plate, and back again. But if she was concerned, she hadn't said anything. Maybe she figured she would stop talking altogether. She'd tried, but Therese had only been giving one-word answers in a quiet mumble.  
  
Therese just felt uncomfortable. They were sitting opposite each other in an expensive Thai restaurant a couple of blocks away from Gen's apartment. The place was all white marble surfaces, crystal chandeliers, servers in bow ties and a wine list the size of a small novel. They were surrounded by couples, mostly middle aged or older, as clearly they were the only market that were able to afford the extortionate menu prices. Everyone was well dressed, and Gen, elegant as ever in her burgundy dress and black blazer, looked like she belonged perfectly.   
  
Therese looked around self-consciously, sure that she must be sticking out like a sore thumb. For a girl in her mid-twenties, she felt like a little kid at a dinner party for adults. She looked down at her black skinny jeans, her chunky high heeled boots and her plain black cotton shirt. She loved the outfit, but in a place like this, it made her feel inferior.  
  
She knew Gen had brought her here with good intentions. But Therese would have rather been anywhere else. And it wasn't just the restaurant that put her on edge.   
  
She looked at Gen. She watched as she took a sip of white wine. Full lips painted deep red, leaving a stain on the edge of her glass. Her nails the same colour. Long dark lashes fluttered, and sometimes she would look up from her plate, and Therese would catch a glimpse of those ice blue eyes. Her long hair, black as coal, fell forwards when she looked down, obscuring part of her face, hiding her in a cloak of ebony.   
  
She was the most beautiful woman in the room, there was no doubt about it. Therese wondered what people thought when they saw them together. Did they invent their own stories about them, like she sometimes did when she saw a stranger who intrigued her? Who did they think Therese was to Genevieve? Were they friends? Sisters? Partners? Were they a happy couple? Were they in love?  
  
Therese didn't love Genevieve. She hated her.  
  
Gen eyed her. 'Are you going to tell me what's wrong, or are you just going to sit there like a sulking child?' she said condescendingly.   
  
Therese glared at her, her sullen silence giving way to anger.  
  
' _Me_ , the sulking child?' Therese retorted. 'Gen, you haven't said a word to me in over a week, and you just expect me to pretend like nothing's wrong? Where have you been?'  
  
'I've been swamped with course applications, and getting everything ready for the art show', she answered simply.  
  
'That's it? You couldn't even have sent a text? It would only have taken a minute'.  
  
'I'm sorry', Gen said quietly. 'I should have called'.  
  
'Yeah, Gen', Therese bit back. 'You should have called'.  
  
'What is up with you?' Gen interrogated.  
  
'I just . . . I never know where I stand with you. Sometimes I have to know. And I can't ask you about it, because you don't even know yourself. You don't know what the fuck we're doing, what this thing is between us'.  
  
'Therese, stop it', Gen warned. Therese thought she saw a flash of panic in her eyes.  
  
'I get it, Gen, I'm just your latest toy and soon you'll get bored of me and replace me with a newer model'.  
  
Gen looked down, avoiding Therese's glare.  
  
'Well? It's true, isn't it? And I've always known it, because I know that's what you're like. You don't love me, and I don't love you either. No strings attached. But then, something will change, and suddenly I don't understand anymore. I'm back to square one, and I'm searching for the answers all over again. Your mood swings are like a fucking teenager's. You shut me out for days, then you take me out to dinner. Why the fuck are we on a date right now?'  
  
'Therese', Genevieve started.  
  
'That's not what this is about!' she almost shouted over her.  
  
'You know what? You're right!' Gen snapped. 'I'm using you, and you let yourself be used, because you came to me anyway, and you've stayed with me. So don't pretend like you need some kind of validation, because you've been getting along just fine without it. I don't owe you any explanation, and you don't owe me one. We're nothing to each other'.  
  
She kept her voice low and steady, so people wouldn't stare, but it had an edge so sharp it cut into Therese like a knife. She was taken aback, like she was being yelled at in a hushed tone. She wondered if she wouldn't rather Genevieve just scream at her in front of the whole restaurant.   
  
Gen must have seen it on her face, because she stopped suddenly, mouth opening to say something else but no sound emerging. She relaxed a little, voice still hard, but face softening.  
  
'And this isn't a date. I asked you here because I wanted to spend time with you outside of the office or my bedroom'. She looked down at her lap. 'For five minutes, I just wanted to act like we were ordinary friends. I want us to be friends'.  
  
'This isn't how friends treat each other. You don't care about me, Gen'.  
  
'Then leave'.  
  
Therese looked at her, searching for any kind of emotion in her eyes. But they were just cold, angry.  
  
'You're free to leave any time you want. You're free to go and shag whoever you want. But you won't. You just keep crawling back to me, because I can make you come harder than anyone else can'.  
  
Therese gasped, opening her mouth to fire something back only to realise anything she had to say would sound pathetic. It stung, because it was true.   
  
Gen leaned closer across the table, lowering her voice so only the two of them could hear.  
  
'Now, we're going to go home, and I'm going to fuck you so hard, you'll regret everything you said here tonight'.  
  
Then she grabbed her purse from the black Prada handbag slung over the side of her chair, glaring eyes never leaving Therese as she dropped a handful of bills onto the table and stood up. She stormed off, not bothering to wait for Therese as she scrambled to gather her things and shove her arms through the arms of her grey wool coat. She didn't wait, because she knew Therese would follow.  
  
And, like a fool, she followed. Of course she followed. What else could she do?  
  
She knew, if people saw this mess from the outside, they'd ask her why she stayed. She wasn't happy with Gen, she wasn't in love. There was no real reason for her to keep playing this game.   
  
But the truth was, she was lonely. Being with Gen gave her something to think about, something to worry about, someone to go home to at the end of the day. She made her feel good when they were together, and even though she never gave her any illusion of wanting anything more than a casual fling, Therese still wanted her, because for that time she didn't feel so empty any more. And she was too afraid to say no, because she feared that feeling of loneliness that created a deep void inside her chest. It kept her awake at night.   
  
Maybe in some ways Therese was using Gen as much as Gen was using her. The older woman filled the void, if only temporarily. And, while she still had nobody to love, she wasn't prepared to let her go. Because feeling hurt and anger was better than feeling nothing at all.  
  
Or, at least, that's what she'd thought at first. She wasn't so sure any more.  
  
‎With just a look, Genevieve could set her whole body on fire, but now the heat was growing out of control, and Therese feared the flames would swallow her whole. What had once warmed her was burning her alive.

 


	7. Natural Light

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys had a good Christmas!

'How are you doing?'  
  
Therese snapped out of her daze as she heard the voice and felt the gentle hand on her shoulder. Carol slid into the empty seat next to her.  
  
'It's fine', Therese replied quietly.  
  
She'd been working on edits for some of her photos on one of the computers, but the heaviness of her eyelids and her inability to stop yawning was making it extremely difficult to concentrate.  
  
She turned to look at Carol, and as she let her face fall into the path of blue-grey eyes, she watched as Carol's face clouded over. The older woman almost said something, but her concerned expression said it all.  
  
And worse, she noticed Carol's eyes darting to the base of her neck. She never usually felt self-conscious if her shirt was just low enough to expose the scratch marks on her throat or the purple love bites on her collarbone. But, with Carol, she suddenly felt ashamed. Something just felt so wrong about Carol seeing the marks Gen left on her.   
  
'Why are you looking at me like that?' Therese asked defensively, attempting to deflect Carol's attention.  
  
She just smirked. 'You look terrible'.  
  
That made Therese laugh, and suddenly she felt that tiny bit lighter.  
  
'Yes, I know my dark circles make me look like I've been punched in the face, but I promise I'm just tired', she joked.  
  
It made Therese a little uncomfortable, but she knew there was no point in trying to hide it. Carol knew about Genevieve. She knew why she was so exhausted.   
  
Therese didn't know why she felt so awkward around Carol when it came to Gen. She thought maybe it was because Gen was her teacher, and she knew most people would think this was wrong, despite Carol telling her she wouldn't judge. Or maybe because Gen was Carol's friend. Maybe it was just because it was Carol.  
  
A half hour later, as the session drew to an end, Therese continued to work. Other students called out their goodbyes to her as they left, either on their own or in small groups, most likely headed to a bar.  
  
'Any plans for the rest of the day?' Carol asked when it was just the two of them left in the studio.   
  
Carol was packing away all her camera equipment into her bag. Therese figured this question was her subtle way of trying to call attention to the fact that everyone else had left, and she should probably stop working too.  
  
Therese shook her head. 'I was hoping to stay here a little longer, actually'.  
  
'Oh, but darling, I have to lock the place up'.  
  
'Right. Of course. Sorry'.  
  
'Why did you want to stay?'  
  
Therese looked away. 'I just don't wanna go home'.  
  
She couldn't bear to be left alone right now. She wanted a distraction, something that would force her to stay awake, and to focus on anything as long as it wasn't what was in her head.  
  
The truth was, she was completely drained. Every night spent with Genevieve was turning into an endless debate with herself over whether or not she should end things. She still enjoyed her time with Gen, but she was exhausted with it all at the same time, so much so that she felt the fun wasn't worth the time she spent hating herself afterwards.  
  
She just wanted to stop thinking about it, for once.  
  
Carol sighed, and when she looked back at her, she found her stood with her hand on one hip, regarding her with that same concern on her face, the expression she'd seen so much recently.   
  
She didn't know why Carol was so worried about her, why she sometimes looked at her like she was made of glass and might shatter at any moment. It was nice to know that she cared, but she didn't want her to worry either.  
  
'You know, there's a great little café around the corner', Carol said. 'Would you like to get coffee with me?'  
  
Therese smiled gratefully.

* * *

  
  
'I think my roommate's mad at me', she confessed to Carol as they sat down at a small table for two by the huge window at the front of the café. A row of tiny cacti sat along the edge of the table, and a single lightbulb, not yet turned on due to the lightness outside, hung down in the centre, just above their heads.  
  
'Oh?'  
  
'It's about Gen'.  
  
Carol raised an eyebrow. 'Your roommate knows about her?'  
  
Therese nodded. 'He thinks I've been acting strange. Like I'm not myself'.  
  
'And what do you think?'  
  
'I wholeheartedly agree', she replied without hesitation, voice deadpan.  
  
Carol smirked. 'Yeah. Gen has that effect on people'.  
  
Therese took a sip of her coffee, and Carol glanced outside into the street. The scene outside was like a painting come to life. There was the usual stream of yellow taxi cabs, a little girl with wild curls eating a candy bar as her father pushed her along in her pushchair, an older man with three cocker spaniels on a leash, a young couple with one hand in the other's and the free one drinking bright green smoothies, and the slant of the sun that poured into a pool of gold on the sidewalk, part of it dripping in through the window.  
  
Therese tried to figure out which element Carol was watching, but there was so much going on, and so much changing with every passing second. Before she knew what she was doing, she felt her hands wrap instinctively around the camera she wore on a strap around her neck, and lifted if towards her eye. She pointed it at Carol.  
  
 _Snap._  
  
'Oh, don't', Carol laughed, putting a hand up in front of her face. 'I look awful!'  
  
'No, you look wonderful', Therese assured her. 'Stay where you are'.  
  
Therese lifted the camera, closing one eye and looking through the eyepiece with the other. Carol lowered her hand, but remained in that same position, eyes down on the table in front of them and head tilted slightly to the right, so the sunlight from the window slanted in across the side of her face.  
  
She was breathtaking.  
  
Therese snapped the photograph quickly before she could move, grateful to capture this moment of perfection before the sun lowered a little and drew a different pattern on Carol's face, or she blinked, or a draught from the open door swept a single hair out of place. Therese could never have that same moment back, but she'd caught it. She smiled as she lowered her camera, leaving it dangling on its strap against her chest.  
  
Carol took a sip of her coffee. Therese didn't touch her own. She placed her chin in her palm, and laid her other arm across the table, almost to the middle, resting the heel of her hand against the cold wood and drawing figures of eight with her index finger. She let out a deep sigh, almost hypnotised by the repetitive shape she drew over and over again. But she stopped when she felt Carol's hand come to rest gently on top of her own. She brushed her fingertips lightly over wrist. Therese looked up.  
  
'Are you sure you're okay?' Carol asked, voice heavy with concern.  
  
Therese shrugged. 'Of course', she replied, trying to sound nonchalant.  
  
Carol nodded slowly, and much to Therese's regret, she pulled her hand away, so both palms now wrapped around her cup. Therese watched her intently as she leaned back a little into her seat, turning her head to the window to gaze out again into the busy late afternoon street. The sunlight caught her face again, like it had in the photograph, and once more Therese was awestruck by the way her skin glowed in its natural flawlessness, lightly bronzed by the sun from the recent trip to Mexico she'd taken with Abby, and the halo of sunlight around her head where the rays reflected off her golden hair. She turned back after a moment, and smiled when she noticed Therese watching her.  
  
'What is it, darling?'  
  
'Tell me things', Therese blurted abruptly.   
  
Carol laughed. 'Like what?'  
  
'Anything', she said dreamily, leaning her chin in the palm of her hand.  
  
'Why?'  
  
'I want to know', Therese replied. 'Tell me about Rindy. I've never met anyone called Rindy before'.  
  
'It’s short for Nerinda'.  
  
'Nerinda?'  
  
Carol nodded. 'That was my grandmother's name. She was an Australian. Moved to New York in the forties, hoping to make it as an actress on Broadway. But she met my grandfather, and married him, and she never acted again'.  
  
'Why not?'  
  
'The Ross family is very traditional', she explained. 'We're from a long line of businessmen and academics. The husband would go out to work and the wife would stay at home and raise a family. That's how it’s always been'.  
  
'That’s medieval', Therese commented.  
  
Carol chuckled. 'I know. That’s why I started acting out. I was pretty rebellious in my teenage years. I wanted freedom to live my own life. But my family didn't approve, of course. They sent me away to boarding school, hoping it would straighten me out. And when I came back, I was introduced to Harge. We were married when I was twenty-one. And my dreams of going to art college were dashed'.   
  
'What happened then?'  
  
'My grandmother was the only one who supported me when I first found my passion for photography. She always had, because she never had the chance to pursue her dream, and she didn't want the same for me. It was something she'd always regretted. So together, we set out to find a school of photography. And that’s where it all started. I took classes here in New York, without my family's knowledge. Harge soon came around when he saw the attention I was getting from the local art circle. I was talented, they said. That's when I told my family of my plans to become a professional photographer. Afterwards, I moved to London for six months to study at an art school there. That's where I met Genevieve. She already knew a number of influential people in the London art circle, and she helped me make connections there. By the time I returned to New York, my London contacts were helping me find work here. And things never slowed down after that. I went from New York Fashion Week, to Elle magazine editorials, and campaigns for Chanel and Armani. But Harge was getting increasingly annoyed with the amount of time I spent working. It had occurred to me a long while before this point that I wasn't in love with him. I had begun taking more jobs to keep me out of the apartment. Away from him. He tried to stop me. And then, after eight years of marriage, we found out I was pregnant'.  
  
'Rindy', Therese stated the obvious.  
  
Carol nodded. 'My grandmother Nerinda passed away four months before. And she remained my most loyal supporter until the day she died. I hoped I would have a daughter so I could name her Nerinda'.  
  
'It was meant to be'.  
  
'Something like that', she smiled, the looked down at the table, running the tip of her index finger up and down the empty coffee cup. 'There have been things in my life which I wished had turned out differently, but looking back now, I have few regrets. If I had never gone to boarding school, then I would never have met Abby. If I had never married Harge, I would never have had Rindy'.  
  
When she looked back at Therese, pure fascination was painted on the younger woman’s face, shining in her eyes, like a child seeing a star shoot across the sky for the first time. And she was confused.  
  
'Why are you looking at me like that?'  
  
'I think you're magnificent, Carol Aird', Therese stated matter-of-factly.  
  
Carol laughed. 'If only that were true'.  
  
'Of course it’s true. The way you fought to achieve your dream. It’s amazing'.  
  
'But there has always been a cost'.  
  
'What do you mean? Your family?'  
  
'Yes, that's one part of it. They don't approve of me'.  
  
'Why not? Because you're divorcing Harge?'  
  
'Yes, there's that . . .' she trailed off. 'They blame me entirely for the divorce, but I suppose it is my fault'.  
  
Therese was growing more confused with each answer, and she felt as though Carol was being deliberately vague with her responses. Therese didn't want to push too far, but she couldn't help herself.   
  
'But you don't love him', she pointed out. 'You can't help your feelings'.  
  
'No. Things would have been so much easier if you could. He has his faults, but underneath it all, he's a good man'.  
  
'But he took Rindy away from you'.  
  
Carol looked up at her, eyes wide and startled, like a deer caught in the headlights. 'Yes, but . . . I deserved it'.  
  
'Why?' Therese almost whispered.

The look on Carol's face hit her like a punch to the gut, and she was completely taken aback by it. She saw the words on her lips, but no sound escaped. Just that look of terror, as if she'd been transported to another place entirely. A place in which something had gone very wrong for Carol. But it was a place the younger woman couldn't find.  
  
'Therese?'  
  
She looked up, startled by the sound of her name, a sound made by a familiar and unwelcome voice.  
  
'Richard', she greeted, though the name came out like a sigh of disappointment. She didn't want to see him ever, let alone right now. With his interruption, he'd broken the spell, and Therese was reluctantly sucked out of that blissful bubble in which she and Carol were the only two people in the café, in the street, in the whole of New York.  
  
He was angry. Therese could see it straight away. Dressed impeccably, as always, but with his bottom lip almost quivering with rage.   
  
She almost wondered why he was even here, but she remembered he had a friend in the neighbourhood. Still, she would never have expected to see him here, especially since he appeared to be alone. Was he here working, or just for a quiet coffee by himself? Maybe he had seen her from outside and decided to come in and ruin her day.  
  
'What are you doing here?' he asked, voice hard.  
  
'I take a class in the studio around the corner', she explained calmly.  
  
'And who's this?' he demanded, jerking his head in the direction of Carol.  
  
'This is Carol', Therese introduced her. She looked at the woman across from her, whose eyes moved cautiously between her and Richard, as if she was trying to make sense of what was going on between them.  
  
'Is she the one?'  
  
'What?' Therese asked, before realising what he meant. _He thinks she’s Genevieve._ 'Oh, no, she's not-'  
  
'Jesus, Therese', he interrupted, running a hand through his hair. 'We could have been so great together. I would have done anything for you, you know'.  
  
'We weren't right for each other, Richard', she muttered.  
  
'No, and I know that now', he answered, raising his voice further. 'Because you'd rather fuck around with older women than commit to someone like me. Someone who would have been so good for you'.  
  
'Richard, can you stop', Therese whispered harshly, aware of the attention the three of them were now getting from onlookers at other tables.  
  
'You're a disgrace, Therese', he spat. 'Be grateful you don't have any family. They'd be ashamed of you too'.   
  
With that, he stormed out, flinging the door open with such force that it slammed against the side wall. Everyone stared behind him, and the café was quiet for a moment, until, eventually, the awkwardness faded out into a new rise in conversation.   
  
Now it was Therese's turn to be startled. She sat frozen in her seat, her mouth slightly agape.  
  
She was seized by the shock of his outburst, and stung by the poison in his words. What had he meant? What was her disgrace? He had assumed Carol was her lover, that was certain. Why was he so disgusted? Was it because Carol was older? Because she was a woman? Or was it simply that Therese wasn't with someone he or his backward family would approve of?  
  
Whatever it was, it had shown who he really was. And Therese was never more glad to have distanced herself from him.  
  
She looked at Carol, still shaken. Carol was a reflection of Therese's shock, that same startled expression still etched on her face.  
  
'Wanna get out of here?' Carol asked her quietly.  
  
Therese nodded.  
  
Carol took her hand and led her outside, the stares of the customers around them burning into their backs.  
  


* * *

  
  
The night was quiet now.   
  
Dannie was out on a date, one which would undoubtedly go horribly, and Therese would hear all about it in the morning. He could never find the right women. But he was gone, and Therese was alone in the apartment, sat in the dim light of the lamp on the coffee table with the television and speakers turned off.   
  
Now there was nothing, she noticed how little she was in the absence of noise these days. It unnerved her, feeling the silence surround her, like the layer of fog that creeps across the forest floor. But she forced herself to sit through it, because there was nothing like the emptiness of the quiet when it came to confronting her thoughts. Alone on the couch, the chaos in her head was the loudest sound.  
  
She sat, cross-legged, with a half empty can of Coca Cola on the coffee table in front of her and her camera in her lap. She clung to it like a child would to their teddy bear. Her camera had always been her greatest comfort. Tonight, even more so, because shining on the small screen was the photograph she had taken of Carol earlier.  
  
The older woman had left her outside the café. She had somewhere to be, and was running late. Therese apologised for taking up her time, but Carol insisted that she was glad to have spent the afternoon with her. Therese had also told Carol, awkwardly, that she was sorry if she pushed too far with her questions. She couldn't stop thinking about that look, when she said that she deserved to be separated from Rindy. Like she had done something truly awful. Like she was hiding something. Carol had brushed it off, and Therese decided she would never bring it up again. She didn't want to know.  
  
But there was the photograph. The perfect balance of natural light and shadow, the shine of her eyes, the slight curve of her lips, like she was trying to look serious but couldn't help smiling anyway.  
  
Therese thought it might be the best photograph she'd ever taken. Because it was Carol, and she could never explain the feeling she got in the pit of her stomach whenever she looked at her.  
  
 _Carol._  
  
She was all Therese could think about.  
  
The more time she spent with her, the more time she wanted to spend with her. The more she got to know her, the more she wanted to know. And with every passing day, the more she felt there was something between them.  
  
The more she felt like she was falling in love with her.  
  
 _Shit._

 


	8. Hurricane Harge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy new year everyone! Hope 2019 is the best ever for all of you.

_Snap._  
  
Carol was working on her laptop at the kitchen counter, denim clad legs swinging gently beneath the stool. She rested her head in her palm and with the other hand, two fingers swiped the trackpad.  
  
Therese liked to photograph her like this. Now Carol had gotten used to the fact that Therese always had her camera with her, and that she took it out whenever she found the slightest thing she thought worthy of capturing, it didn't bother her if she was suddenly, unexpectedly staring down the lens.

Well, sometimes it did bother her.  
  
But Carol knew that was Therese's style. She liked to capture what most people would find mundane. Therese found something visually interesting in everything, even the most boring routines of everyday life. There was always something to photograph.  
  
What Carol didn't know was that Therese took more photographs of her than anyone else.  
  
 _Snap._  
  
'Will you quit it?' Carol murmured.  
  
Therese lowered her camera. Carol's eyes hadn't left her computer, but she must have heard the snap.  
  
Therese smiled, putting her camera down on the empty space next to her. _Okay, maybe it bothers her today._  
  
'What are you working on?' Therese asked.  
  
'Oh, nothing', she replied. 'Just answering emails'.  
  
'Anything good?'  
  
'Always', Carol smiled. 'Marie Claire wants me to shoot an editorial. But I won't take it'.  
  
'Why not?' Therese frowned.  
  
'The job's in Paris'.  
  
'So?'  
  
'I can't go now, I'm in the middle of the divorce settlements'.  
  
'Oh', Therese murmured, feeling foolish for forgetting. 'Right'.  
  
She stared at the wall opposite.   
  
This was only the second time she'd visited Carol in her apartment. The first time, they had coffee on a Sunday morning, talking well into the afternoon about everything and nothing. Today, Carol had texted, saying working alone in the apartment was driving her crazy and she wouldn't mind some company. Therese had dropped everything, and an hour later she was sat on Carol's couch, trying and failing to work on her assignment for Harkevy's class.   
  
The couch was light grey and made of soft fabric, decorated with cushions of cream-coloured velvet as soft as a puppy's fur. It was backed up against the wall, with an identical one to the side, both facing a television by the adjoining wall. There were shelves full of books and films along the rest of the wall, until a hallway opened up, leading to the bathroom and Carol's bedroom. The room right at the end of the hall was a bedroom for Rindy, for if she ever stayed the night. Unfortunately, this was a rare occurrence. Therese's heart had broken a little when she saw that the room was almost empty.  
  
There was another hallway on the opposite side, this one shorter, leading to another spare room and Carol's office. And here, in the open living space, was a large kitchen with an island counter, where Carol sat now, and a round dining table in the centre.   
  
It was modern and stylish, but cosy too, not like Gen’s place. There were recipe books in the kitchen, and a well-loved record player in the corner. The spines of the books on the shelf were crinkled, like they'd been read over and over. The photographs on the walls were of family and friends, and there were soft, fluffy rugs covering the hard-wooden floor in the lounge. It was much more homely, like someone actually lived here.  
  
Therese was startled by the loud buzz of Carol's cell phone against the kitchen counter. The older woman reached for it.  
  
'Shit', she cursed, slamming her phone back down on the marble surface. 'Speaking of divorce settlements, my husband is downstairs'.  
  
'Harge is here?'   
  
Carol nodded solemnly. 'I don't know what it's about, he just said he's on his way up'.  
  
Therese immediately shut the lid of her laptop and started to gather her things. 'Maybe I should go-'  
  
'No, darling, you stay', Carol interrupted. There was an urgency to her voice, as if she needed her there. Therese nodded, and settled back into the couch without another word.  
  
They waited in silence after that. Therese bit her lip as she watched Carol, who was anxiously tapping her painted nails against the counter with a loud click. Therese hated seeing Carol like this, knowing there was nothing she could do. The same way she momentarily lost the ability to breathe every time Carol smiled, she felt the prick of tears at the back of her eyes when she was sad. When Carol was nervous, Therese felt her stomach turn.  
  
And, finally, there were two loud knocks at the door. Carol went to answer it, shooting Therese a look before she opened it, willing her to stay where she was. She gave a small nod in return.  
  
When Carol pulled the door back, she revealed a tall, slim man with neatly cut black hair and dressed in a smart dark grey suit and polished black shoes. And, standing in front of him, not quite reaching the height of his waist, was a small girl in a navy and white striped shirt, jeans, and a red wool coat, beaming as she looked up.   
  
'Mom!'  
  
Therese could see, even from her distance, that Carol was taken aback. She hasn't expected Harge to bring Rindy here, that was obvious. But she had the brightest smile on her face when she saw her.  
  
'Hello, my darling!' Carol moved back away from the door so she could lift Rindy under the arms and spin her around, before bringing her back to the floor and crouching down to meet her height.  
  
'Look how big you've gotten!' Carol mused, looking up at her daughter. 'Stop growing up so fast!'  
  
'I can't, Mom!' Rindy laughed.  
  
Harge had followed Rindy in, closing the door behind him, and noticed Therese on the couch.'Who's this?' he asked Carol bluntly.  
  
'This is Therese', Carol told him.  
  
Therese stood awkwardly. 'Hello', she said timidly, giving him a small smile.  
  
Carol brought Rindy over to her.  
  
'Rindy, this is my friend, Therese', she introduced them proudly.   
  
'Hi', the little girl said shyly, leaning into her mother's side.  
  
'Hi, Rindy!' Therese smiled warmly. 'Your Mom's told me a lot about you'.  
  
She was very pretty, like a smaller version of Carol. Her blonde hair a little darker than her mother's, and longer too. But they had the same blue-grey eyes, both bright and sparkling in the presence of each other.   
  
'Carol, we need to talk', Harge interrupted the moment. 'Alone'.  
  
'Yes, of course, sorry', Carol reluctantly snapped out of her blissful moment with her daughter. 'Rindy, go play in your room for a minute, okay?'  
  
'Okay', Rindy answered sullenly, and trudged off down the hall to the empty room.  
  
'Darling, I'll be back in a minute', Carol murmured to Therese, giving her arm a squeeze.  
  
She told Harge they could speak in her office, and the two disappeared to the opposite side of the apartment, leaving Therese alone in the living room, silence enveloping her once again.  
  
It was only a minute or so before the voices from down the hall started to escalate in volume. Therese didn't want to eavesdrop, but she couldn't hear what they were talking about anyway. There was the constant stream of muffled argument, but the sounds bled into one another, impossible to make out.   
  
She started to wander up and down the room, it occurring to her that she'd never been able to pay much attention to the various pictures that decorated Carol's walls, because Carol was always there with her, distracting her. Now, by herself, she browsed them like an art collector at a gallery show.  
  
She sat down on her knees in front of a coffee table, set against the wall to the side of the couch she was sitting on before. On the table was a collection of wooden frames, scattered in no particular order, but all visible if you sat in the right place.  
  
Therese looked from each one to the next. The first she saw was one of Rindy as a baby, asleep in Carol's arms as Carol looked down on her, serene like a guardian angel. Another was one of Carol and Abby in a cocktail bar, laughing with bright orange drinks in hand. There was an old, black and white photograph of a young woman at the beach in a white sundress, dark blonde hair styled in elegant waves, like Katharine Hepburn. Therese could see the crinkled lines across the picture where it had once been folded before being put in the frame. She assumed it was Carol's grandmother.  
  
There was a couple more of Carol and Rindy, one of Abby and Rindy, and a photograph of the three Airds in front of the castle at Walt Disney World. Rindy stood in front of her parents, who each held her hand, with Carol keeping her other hand on Rindy's shoulder. She was so small she looked like she could have toppled over at any moment, but Carol held onto her. All three were smiling. They looked truly happy, but Therese knew better.  
  
She heard the distant click of a door behind her, and the soft pad of small feet against the floorboards. She turned to see Rindy peering at her from the edge of wall where the lounge met the corridor, curious eyes watching her.  
  
'Hey, Rindy', Therese smiled at her.   
  
The little girl didn't say anything, just came to sit beside Therese on the floor. She looked up at the photographs.   
  
'That one's my favourite', she said after a moment, pointing at the one Therese had just been looking at.  
  
'Yeah?'  
  
She nodded. 'We went to Disney World on vacation'.  
  
'When was that?'  
  
'Four years ago. I was three, so I don't really remember it'.  
  
Both of them flinched as a particularly loud shout came from down the hall.   
  
Rindy looked in the direction of Carol's office, like she might be able to see her parents there, see the source of the noise and hear the words they were screaming.  
  
'They argued less then', she told Therese, nodding in the direction of the office. Her tone was more of boredom than of hurt, like she was so used to it by now.  
  
'They do that a lot, huh', Therese responded with a sympathetic smile.   
  
'My Aunt Abby says they'll be happier without each other'.  
  
'And what do you think?' she asked tentatively.  
  
Rindy shrugged. 'I think she's right. They always shout when they're around each other. I know it's about me. I know they're worried about me. Aunt Abby told me'.  
  
Therese looked at Rindy in disbelief. On the one hand, she was surprised that Abby was giving Rindy this information, and knew Carol wouldn't be too happy about it. But she could see why Abby had explained these things to her. She seemed so much older, so much wiser than her seven years. She may have been a child, but she seemed to understand what was going on as well as any adult.  
  
'Abby must really trust you', was all Therese could think to say.  
  
Rindy giggled. 'No, she just had too much wine the last time we had a sleepover. Then she told me not to tell Mom what she said'.  
  
'Do you hang out with her a lot?'  
  
The sweet sound of Rindy's tiny laugh faded, and a pained look crossed her face. 'Sometimes Daddy is sad. He gets in a really bad mood and he takes me to Aunt Abby's for the night. He never takes me to stay with Mom. He said he doesn't trust her, but he never tells me why'.  
  
'Do you miss her?'   
  
'Yes', she replied. 'But I would rather them not live together, even if it means I don't see Mom all the time. When they're unhappy, I'm unhappy too. And they're unhappy when they see each other'.  
  
Therese was more taken aback every time the little girl spoke. _Why do adults ever underestimate kids_?  
  
'You know, Rindy, you're very mature', she admired.  
  
'What does that mean?' she asked.  
  
'It means you're very grown up'.  
  
'Oh. Well, maybe not very grown up if I don't know what mature means'.  
  
Therese chuckled. 'I think your Mom is very proud of how you're handling things'.  
  
Rindy smiled humbly. Therese could only hope that people told her often enough how amazing she was.   
  
'How long have you known my Mom?' Rindy asked.  
  
'Not so long. About three months'.  
  
'How did you meet?'  
  
'At a party. One of your Mom's friend's'.  
  
'Which friend?'  
  
'Genevieve Cantrell'.  
  
'Oh. I know her'.  
  
Therese blinked. 'You've met her?'  
  
Rindy nodded. 'A couple of times. She's nice. Kind of scary sometimes'.  
  
'Yeah, that's true', Therese smirked. She couldn't imagine Gen with Rindy. She couldn't imagine Gen with any kid.  
  
'When I met her for the first time, she was dressed all in black, with black hair and dark red lipstick, and she was like a witch, or an evil stepmother or something', Rindy told her excitedly, as if meeting Genevieve had truly convinced her of the existence of such fairytales. 'Mom had to answer the phone and went away to her office, and Gen looked at me in a strange way, like she didn't know what to do. So she gave me twenty dollars and told me to go watch TV'.  
  
That made Therese laugh, and Rindy was laughing too. And after a moment, they couldn't stop laughing. It was one of those wonderful moments of unexplained hilarity, where suddenly everything was ridiculously funny and neither of them were sure what they were even laughing at in the first place.  
  
While they sat talking together, they had failed to notice the quietening of voices from down the hall. Now Carol emerged into the kitchen, the anger in her expression quickly softening as she saw the scene unfolding on the floor by the coffee table.  
  
'What are you two laughing at?' she asked, smiling.  
  
'Oh, nothing', Rindy told her mother, then looked at Therese, still laughing, like the reason for their amusement was a secret between the two of them. Therese smiled adoringly at her, surprised at how much love she had for this little girl having only just met her. It was so easy to see why Carol missed having her around.   
  
Harge stomped out from behind Carol, shoes heavy against the floor. He marched straight past her and to the front door, yanking his coat from the hook and holding out Rindy's small red one in her direction.  
  
'Come on, Rindy, we're leaving', he demanded.  
  
'Already?' Rindy complained.  
  
'Don't start, just get your coat on'.  
  
Rindy sighed, getting up and trudging over to her father. He helped her put on her coat and told her to go say her goodbyes.   
  
With that, she ran into Carol's waiting arms.  
  
'Bye, Mom', she said, arms wrapped around Carol's legs. 'Will I see you soon?'  
  
'Of course, my sweet girl', Carol said lovingly. She crouched down to her daughter's height, and they held each other tightly until Rindy finally pulled away. Carol looked up at her, one hand holding hers and the other tucking a strand of hair behind her tiny ear. 'Be good for Daddy. I love you'.  
  
'I love you too', Rindy smiled back. With that Carol let her go, and as she made her way back to the door, she turned towards Therese, who was now standing by the photographs on the table.   
  
'Bye, Therese', Rindy waved.  
  
'Bye, Rindy. It was nice meeting you'.  
  
Both Carol and Therese watched as Harge shepherded Rindy out of the door without another word. As the door slammed shut behind them, the two remained silent for a moment. It was that kind of tense, awful silence where nothing a person can say seems appropriate. Therese looked at Carol.  
  
'Typical', the older woman said to the floor. 'He brings Rindy here and takes her away before I get to spend a minute with her'.  
  
She smiled sadly at Therese.  
  
'What did he say?' the younger woman asked cautiously.  
  
Carol shook her head. 'More issues with the custody battle. Let's not talk about it'. She drifted over to the couch and perched on the end, staring candidly at the wall opposite. Therese waited, feeling as though she was about to say something else.  
  
'I never see her', she said absentmindedly. 'She's growing up and I'm not there to see it. And she’s turning into this friendly, curious, clever kid and she's doing it all without me'.  
  
'She misses you', Therese assured her.  
  
Carol continued as if she hadn't even heard her. 'People always say that kids need their mothers. But it's not true, is it? People can do just fine without a mother. I mean, look at you. I know you never knew your parents. Did you ever have someone you thought of as your mother?'  
  
Therese thought about every home she'd lived in as a child. There were lots of them, some foster homes, mostly children's homes. She came and went. Sister Alicia at one of the children's homes was the closest she'd ever come to having a mother figure. She was so kind to her. But she wasn't with her for long. Therese knew Sister Alicia probably wouldn't even remember who she was any more.  
  
She shook her head. 'No', she admitted. 'I never had one'.  
  
'See? And you're perfect'.  
  
Therese smiled in spite of herself.   
  
'What about your mother?' she asked, hoping the answer would provide some comfort for Carol.  
  
'My mother?' she smirked. 'Well, we never agreed on anything, she packed me off to boarding school, she tried to marry me off as soon as I turned twenty and she practically disowned me when I moved to London. We don't speak any more'.

 _Oh. Well that didn’t help._  
  
'She misses you', Therese tried again.  
  
Carol listened this time. 'What?'  
  
'She told me'.  
  
Carol shot her a questioning smile, eyes narrowed. 'What were you two talking about?'  
  
'Oh, nothing', Therese brushed off the question, not wanting to get Rindy or Abby into trouble. 'She was just showing me the pictures'.  
  
Carol smiled proudly. 'She's very hospitable'.  
  
'She's wonderful', Therese said sincerely. 'And I bet a lot of it is thanks to her mother'.  
  
The older woman looked at her, eyes shining. 'You're an angel, you know that?'  
  
Therese looked at the ground, a shy smile on her lips. She didn't want Carol to know how she made her feel every time she said something sweet to her like that. But she had so much trouble hiding it.  
  
Carol looked away then, smile long since faded. 'But you're wrong', she said with regret. 'Rindy probably doesn't even remember having me around. I haven't lived with her in two years'.

* * *

 

Watching movies with Dannie was always an education. He always picked the most obscure films, from 1930s and 40s Hollywood to French New Wave to Japanese horror. He had such a vast knowledge of cinema that he loved to share with whoever would listen, and Therese was a keen student of his.   
  
She started watching with him to get inspired. Sometimes films had the most beautiful photography within them. But soon she'd found herself falling in love with much more than just the images on the screen.  
  
Tonight, it was _How to Marry a Millionaire._ Carol had told her once that she loved the movie, and that Lauren Bacall was one of her favourite actresses. Of course, Therese had immediately suggested to Dannie that they watch it.  
  
They sat together on the couch in front of the TV, lights dimmed, huddled beneath a blanket, Therese resting her head against Dannie's shoulder. The apartment was cold now. January was upon them, Christmas had been and gone, and it was still growing colder. Maybe soon the streets would be glittering with snow or ice.  
  
'This is nice', Therese murmured sleepily, as the film was nearing its end.  
  
She felt Dannie shift beneath her head. 'What?'   
  
'We haven't done this in a while'. She lifted her head and sat back against the couch so she could look at him.   
  
'Yeah, well, someone's been a little busy lately', he nudged her playfully. 'You're always at Cantrell's. Or Carol's'.  
  
'Yeah', she mumbled, guilty over the amount of time she'd been spending away from home, away from her best friend.  
  
'You and your strange love affairs with older women', he thought aloud, shaking his head.  
  
'It’s not love', Therese protested.  
  
'Not with Genevieve'.  
  
Therese blinked at him, startled, before looking away, caught by the knowing look in his eye.  
  
'I'm right, aren't I?'  
  
She nodded, blushing.  
  
'More trouble for you, Tee', he sighed.  
  
'I know', she mumbled.  
  
'Unless it's not'.  
  
Therese looked at him, confused. 'What do you mean?'  
  
'You think anything could happen with you and Carol?'  
  
'Of course not', she replied, defeated.   
  
'Would you want it to? If she liked you back, would you want to be with her?'  
  
Therese had thought about it, that much was true, but she always stopped herself before she let her imagination run too far. Dreaming of a life with Carol made her happy, but it always hurt when she came crashing down to earth, knowing it was nothing more than a dream.  
  
'I would', she replied simply.   
  
'She's much older than you, Tee', Dannie commented. 'She's at a completely different stage in her life'.  
  
'I know'.  
  
'Does it bother you?'  
  
Therese shook her head. 'I don't care. I would only have her exactly the way she is'.  
  
Dannie looked at her, struck by her certainty, and the realisation that she was far more serious about her feelings for Carol than he'd first thought.   
  
'That's that, then', he remarked.  
  
'It doesn't matter anyway. She doesn't like me in that way. She can't. How could someone like her ever love someone like me?'  
  
Dannie shrugged. 'People can surprise you'. He pointed towards the television, where the three lead characters were chatting in an elegant dressing room. 'I mean, look at those three. Setting out to find a millionaire, and realising that they prefer the guy who has nothing. Sometimes we find someone different than the one we were looking for, but by then you don't care that they're not what you wanted at first, because they're what you want now'.  
  
Therese smiled, comforted by his words, even though she was certain they weren't true in her case. Carol was in the middle of a divorce, she had a young daughter, a thriving career. She was sure Carol wouldn't be interested in dating anyone, let alone her. She was just a nobody. And she didn't even know if Carol liked women.   
  
She treasured her friendship with the older woman, because she knew that was all there could be between them.  
  
So Dannie was wrong, but it didn't matter, because she felt better anyway.  _He always knows what to say._  
  
She snuggled back into his side. 'Dannie, I'm sorry I haven't been around much lately'.  
  
'It's okay', he assured her. 'I know you're figuring shit out'.  
  
'Always trying and always failing', she chuckled.  
  
Dannie smirked. 'Aren't we all?'  
  


 


	9. Drunk in Lust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More revelations . . . have a good week everyone!

Being in Genevieve's apartment and being surrounded by people was strange. Despite the fact that her first time there was a party with a room full of strangers, Therese had become so used to having Gen to herself in the apartment, it felt as though these other people didn't belong.   
  
Everyone except Carol, of course, who she might never have met if it wasn't for that party. Carol, who sat beside her now, so close that Therese felt the entire right side of her body tingling with electricity.   
  
Carol was wearing a suit, like the first time she saw her, but this time it was bright red in colour, with lipstick to match. She'd straightened her hair, so it was slightly longer. It was different, but it was just a different kind of elegance. Carol looked amazing in anything, and every change in her style was as beautiful as whatever came before it.  
  
Therese was three glasses of champagne down, and enjoying that warm, fuzzy feeling, the stage of intoxication where she was just slightly tipsy, a lot more giggly, but still too shy to really go up and talk to anyone. Not that she wanted to talk to anyone else anyway, not when the only person she wanted to hang out with was already next to her.  
  
'Who's that?' Carol asked, nodding towards a stocky guy with blonde curly hair tied back into a bun, and tattoos running up each arm, disappearing beneath shirt sleeves just below his shoulders.  
  
Therese had been pointing out her classmates to Carol, who for some reason was very interested in the people Therese spent most of her week with.  
  
'His name is Joshua', she told her. 'He's the athletic type, the kind of guy who would have been a real jerk in high school. But he's actually very sweet'.  
  
'Okay, who is she?'  
  
'That's Monika. She's from Prague, so when she found out my surname was Belivet, she wanted to hang out with me. I think she was disappointed to find a New Yorker who's never even been to the Czech Republic and doesn't speak a word of Czech'.  
  
'And what about him?'  
  
'That's Ethan. I don't know him so well, but apparently his father works on Wall Street and he's super rich'.  
  
'And her?'  
  
Therese followed Carol's eyeline, and came upon a small woman with olive skin and black curly hair, dressed in a sunset orange shirt dress, tied at the middle with a chunky beige belt. She didn't recognise her from any of her classes.  
  
Therese shrugged. 'I don't know her'.  
  
'So make something up', Carol said simply.  
  
'What?'  
  
'Go on', she pressed. 'What's her name? What name do you think she has?'  
  
Therese narrowed her eyes. 'Are you testing me?'  
  
'I would never!' Carol teased, feigning offence.  
  
'Then why?'  
  
'That's what you do isn't it?' she observed. 'It comes through in your work. I've figured it out now. You don't just see the person you're photographing, you see a whole life behind them. You make up a story. And sometimes you even get it right'.  
  
It was all Therese could do to keep from gaping at her. But something must have given her away, because Carol smiled slowly, like she knew she'd won. And Therese smiled too, because in that moment she knew that Carol truly understood her. Not just about this, though Carol appreciating a key part of her creative process was a gift in itself. But every observation Carol ever made about her was true, without Therese having to say a word.  
  
The sparks inside her spread to the furthest points of her body like a power surge, so strong she felt they might keep going, burning right through her fingertips and shocking everything she touched. Because that was Carol, and that was how she made her feel. With Carol, she was electric.  
  
'So what's her name?' Carol tried again, that smug smile still on her lips.  
  
'It's Lara', Therese decided.  
  
'And what does she do?'  
  
'She writes film reviews for magazines'.  
  
'Very nice', Carol commented.   
  
They continued this for a while, until Therese had invented backstories for almost every stranger in the room. For how seriously it had started out, it soon became a silly game, in which the backstories became more elaborate and sometimes bizarre. Carol joined in occasionally. But there was one person Therese hadn't taken on yet.  
  
'And what about Abby's girl?' Carol asked when they'd almost run out of people to wonder about.   
  
Abby was sitting at the counter, the same place Carol was sitting when Therese first saw her. It was strange to relive that moment, but have Carol beside her this time. Therese never thought it would have been possible.  
  
Next to Abby was a woman of about Carol and Abby's age, wearing a dark green jumpsuit with short sleeves and a bardot neckline, and glossy white stilettos. She had a classic kind of beauty, and wild red hair like Rita Hayworth. Her and Abby were deeply engaged in conversation.  
  
'Her name is Gilda', Therese announced.  
  
Carol laughed, and Therese was sure she'd gotten the reference.  
  
'She's from Indiana and she's trying to make her name on Broadway', she finished her analysis.   
  
'Wrong', Carol declared. 'Her name is Ingrid, she's from Sweden originally but she's lived here since college. She's a doctor, and she's been dating Abby for about six months. Shockingly enough, Abby's pretty serious about her'.  
  
'Why is that shocking?'  
  
Carol watched her friend across the room, like she needed to get a better picture. 'Abby's a serial dater. You should have seen her in boarding school. She used to flirt with everything that moved. She got quite the reputation out of it, too. It was notoriously difficult to win over Abby Gerhard. The first person to do it was a Danish exchange student, so I guess she has a thing for Scandinavians'. She took a last sip of her champagne and placed the empty flute on the floor next to her feet. 'She's been around, but she's never had anyone as serious as Ingrid. I'll tell her about the Rita Hayworth struggling actress thing, though, she'll like that'.  
  
'No, don't tell her that, I don't want her knowing I just made drastic assumptions about her girlfriend. She already doesn't like me'.  
  
Carol frowned. 'You think Abby doesn't like you?'  
  
'Yeah. She always acts weird around me. She's all laughing and joking with you, and then, like, a second later, she's really serious with me'.  
  
'It's just because she doesn't know you that well'.  
  
'No, it's not that, it's . . . never mind. Forget I said anything'.  
  
'I'll forget it if you stop being so silly. Abby likes you just fine'.  
  
'Okay, whatever'. Therese shifted uncomfortably, and tried to changed the subject. 'So, how did they meet?'  
  
'At the furniture store Abby used to run, before she became my assistant', Carol explained. 'She closed it about a year ago. It just wasn't working out. But that's where they met. They dated for a while, then broke up, and then got back together again. Abby couldn't stay away. She's always had a thing for old Hollywood types'.  
  
'I suppose her name being Ingrid was a major pro', Therese quipped.  
  
'What?'   
  
'You know, like Ingrid Bergman', she explained.   
  
'Who?'  
  
'You don't know Ingrid Bergman? The actress from _Casablanca_?'  
  
'I've never seen it'.  
  
'What?' Therese laughed. 'You're kidding!'  
  
'I'm not! I'm just not as cultured and clever as you, clearly'.  
  
'Carol, you're, like, the smartest person I've ever met'.  
  
Carol shot her a doubtful look. 'You're funny'.  
  
'I'm serious!'  
  
Therese wanted to say something else, but she couldn't figure out what it was. She opened her mouth to speak, but the words died on her tongue. And Carol noticed.  
  
'What?' she asked.  
  
Therese sighed. 'You're so hard on yourself. You never take any compliments'.  
  
Carol leaned her head in her hand, looking up at her sideways. A darkness cast over her face. 'Because I'm not worthy of them'.  
  
Therese shook her head. 'You always say things like that. But you are worthy. I think you're wonderful'.  
  
She felt like she might regret saying such a thing in the morning. But alcohol always made her more affectionate, and more honest. If she loved someone, she'd tell them, and she'd hug them and kiss their cheek and let them know how much they meant to her. She wanted to tell Carol she loved her. But it wasn't the same. She didn't just love Carol, she was _in_ love with Carol. And that had the potential to ruin everything.  
  
She pushed the thought to the back of her mind.  
  
'Thank you, angel', Carol smiled gratefully.  
  
'You see, now we're getting somewhere!' Therese teased.  
  
Carol pushed her playfully. 'Oh, shut up'.  
  
They carried on their game for a while, before their conversation strayed too far to return to it. Most people were still drinking and laughing, but a few people were calling it a night and drifting out of the door on small groups or couples. Ingrid left, kissing Carol on the cheek as she said goodbye and giving a quick wave to Therese.   
  
After that, it was Genevieve Abby sat with. Therese watched them with concern as Abby leaned closer to where Gen was standing at the side of the counter, and Gen swayed gently every now and again, quickly putting her hand out onto the counter to steady herself. They appeared to be arguing. Both women's expressions were tense, obvious even to Therese on the other side of the room. Gen's eyes kept flickering in her direction. She flinched every time they caught each other, and every time she was met with a flash of anger.  
  
'Hello? Therese?'  
  
'Sorry, what?' Therese snapped her attention back to Carol.  
  
'What is it?' she asked, concerned.  
  
Therese nodded in the direction of the kitchen.   
  
'Look at Gen and Abby'.  
  
'What about them?'  
  
'Just watch'.  
  
Carol did. She saw Gen's drunken swaying, her slamming her drink down on the table before taking it up again to take another swig, and her glaring at Abby so poisonously that the brunette would be dead if looks could kill.  
  
'Oh'.  
  
'Do you know what it's about?'  
  
'No. Why?'  
  
'Nothing. It's just . . .'  
  
Carol frowned. 'What?'  
  
'I think it's about me. Watch Gen. She keeps looking at me'.  
  
Carol did as she was asked. But Therese instantly regretted it, because when Genevieve turned to Therese again, she found both women staring at her. Therese quickly tried to avert her eyes, but Gen had caught on. And her eyes never left Therese's as she drained her drink, barged past Abby, and stormed over to stand in front of Carol and Therese.  
  
'Hello, you two', she said patronisingly with a thin, false smile. 'Having fun?'  
  
Therese stared at Genevieve, who now seemed like a completely different person. Gen never drank enough to get drunk, and Therese never imagined she'd see her in such a state as this. She could barely stand up straight, and her always perfect make-up was out of place, with mascara smudged beneath her eyes, like she'd slept without wiping it away.   
  
'Yes', Carol replied. It came out more like a question than a statement, like she was questioning Gen's strange behaviour.  
  
'Well, it sure looks like it'. She addressed Carol then. 'Isn't Therese just a doll? Abby tells me you've been spending rather a lot of time together recently'.  
  
Therese was starting to panic, unsure of how to handle the situation. There was a potential outburst approaching, she could see it. It scared her a little.  
  
And it didn't help that Gen's raised voice was attracting a lot of attention from the guests around them. People were giving the three of them strange looks, or trying to secretly listen in. Some didn't care about subtlety, and blatantly disrupted their conversations in order to watch the commotion.  
  
Carol appeared to shrug off the comment. Therese couldn't tell if Carol really believed there was nothing to worry about, or whether she too knew Gen was on the fine line between keeping her cool and losing it spectacularly, and trying to act normal in order to prevent it.  
  
'We have', Carol replied with a smile.  
  
Gen seemed to be irritated by her nonchalance. This confrontation clearly wasn't going as planned, because she wasn't getting a rise out of Carol.   
  
Therese was utterly lost, wondering why she wanted a fight. Was there some kind of unfinished business between them? And why did that have anything to with her?  
  
Gen glared at Carol. 'I've been watching you all night, cosying up to one another, whispering in each other's ears', she hissed. 'What are you saying that's so secretive, Carol?'  
  
'Stop it, Gen', Carol brushed her off dismissively.  
  
'What are you telling her about me?' she cried. Her voice trembled with rage, but her eyes shone with tears that hadn't yet fallen. 'Are you trying to turn her away from me?'   
  
'Gen, stop', Carol said again, firmer this time.  
  
'Do you think I'll corrupt her or something? I promised you I'd never do anything like that again. Didn't you believe me?'  
  
'Carol?' Therese looked to her for guidance, for some kind of explanation. But Carol just looked at her with something like terror in her eyes.   
  
Therese's hands began to shake.   
  
Abby put a steadying hand on Gen's shoulder from behind, but Gen shrugged her off.  
  
'Is this some kind of punishment?' she cried. 'If only you knew how much I've suffered, Carol. But it's still not enough, is it? Because nothing I can do will ever make it right'.  
  
Carol got up to go to Gen, despite Therese's protests. Gen tried to push her away, but Carol grabbed her wrists before she could lash out at her any further. A single tear rolled down Gen's cheek as she looked at Carol. She was falling apart in front of her. In front of everyone. Therese would never have believed it had she not been there, seeing it unravel in front of her with her own eyes. She'd started crying herself, watching Carol try to calm Gen down and feeling the emptiness beside her where Carol should have been. It was colder than ever.  
  
'You're trying to get her to leave me', Gen cried, her voice barely more than a whisper. 'Like you left me'.  
  
Therese's head was spinning. It was like she watching a movie, sitting behind the couch, watching herself in the scene. It didn't seem real.  
  
'Gen, stop this', Carol tried to reason with her, voice soft and soothing. 'I'm right here. I never left'.  
  
'You did!' Gen shot back, voice growing louder again now, and angrier. 'Stop lying to me, Carol. You haven't forgiven me and you never will!'  
  
She tried to push Carol away again, but Carol still had hold of her forearms. Carol looked at Abby.  
  
'Abby, take Therese home. Please', she said calmly as she struggled with Gen.  
  
'Sure thing', Abby responded. 'All right people, party's over', she addressed the room. 'Everybody out!'  
  
There was an excited murmur as people started to flock towards the front door, grabbing their coats and downing the last of their drinks before abandoning the empty glasses. Before Therese could even think to stand up and join the moving crowd, Abby had got her, pulling her up from the sofa and guiding her gently to the door, hand on the small of her back.  
  
'Carol?' Therese managed meekly, turning back.  
  
Gen seemed to have finally calmed down, and was leaning against Carol's chest, silent tears rolling down her face. Carol had one arm around her, and the other stroked softly through her hair.  
  
'I need to stay with her', Carol said. 'I'll explain everything. I promise'.  
  
And before Therese could say anything else, she was drifting down the hall in a weary kind of daze as Abby closed the door behind them, separating her from Carol and the answers she needed.  
  


* * *

 

The city lights flashed by as they drove away from Gen's. They were blurred behind the rain that slipped down the car window in silvery streams, like a too-watery watercolour painting whose colours have bled down the canvas. Therese sat in the backseat, watching the world outside go on as if nothing had changed.   
  
Abby was watching her, dark eyes constantly flickering towards her in the rear-view mirror. Abby hadn't spoken to her since they'd gotten in the car, and it was clear she wasn't going to if Therese didn't want to talk.  
  
But Therese did want to talk. She wasn't sure she wanted to know the answers to the questions that presented themselves tonight, but if she didn't find out more she didn't think she'd be able to cope. She wouldn't sleep tonight anyway, but if she talked to Abby at least she'd be mulling over the truth, rather than letting a thousand possibilities loose in her mind, like a scatter of paper confetti in a sudden gust of wind.  
  
Abby was anticipating the questions. Therese knew from the way her eyes darted from her, to the road ahead, and back again, like she was waiting for her.  
  
Eventually, Abby let out a deep sigh. 'Ask away, honey', she said gently. 'I can't promise I'll be able to give you the answers'.  
  
Therese met her eyes in the mirror. She took a deep breath.   
  
'Did something happen between Carol and Gen?' she asked, as confidently as she could, though her voice trembled.   
  
Abby nodded solemnly, saying nothing.  
  
'Tell me', she whispered.   
  
'Therese-'   
  
'Tell me, Abby', she asked again. 'Please'.  
  
Abby sighed again. 'Okay. But only because I think you deserve to know. Carol's gonna kill me for it'.  
  
'She'll understand', Therese assured her.  
  
She thought Abby might be irritated by this, by someone else telling her something about her best friend as if she didn't know her well enough already. But she remained calm. 'Yeah, you're right'.  
  
She took a sharp right, sending Therese bumping into the side door, and she began.  
  
'I don't know how much Carol has told you about her marriage, but you probably know that she was unhappy for a lot of it. She didn't love Harge, but her family put so much pressure on her, she thought her only choice was to marry him. She thought it would get better, that she'd grow to love him as the years passed, but it never happened. She tried, no one can ever deny that. Not even Harge. But trying wasn't enough.  
  
'When Rindy was born, she suffered with pretty serious postnatal depression. She realised then that someday her marriage would come to an end. She didn't know when, and she decided to keep it going for as long as possible for Rindy's sake, but she knew one day it would be time for her to leave Harge.  
  
'Once she recovered, she kept this mentality. She clung to it. It was like a kind of security for her. But she got reckless. As Rindy grew older, she started to care less and less about her relationship with Harge. That's where Genevieve comes in.  
  
'They'd been friends for years already, but, when Rindy was almost three, they started having an affair. Back then, Gen was close with a group of artists in Brookyln who were pretty heavily into drugs. And Carol soon got dragged into it.  
  
'I tried to talk some sense into her. She had a daughter to think about and a career she had worked so hard for, and here she was partying like a teenager with a bunch of hippies in Brooklyn and fucking Genevieve every other night'.  
  
Therese cringed. Abby ignored her.  
  
'Things got out of hand pretty quickly. Carol started turning down job after to job, and she basically neglected Rindy. While Harge was at work, she'd be sleeping through the day instead of taking care of her. When he went away on business trips, Carol had Gen over. Harge knew she was sleeping with someone else, but she was too out of it to care. But he didn't know about the drink and the coke and whatever else when he wasn't there. So he left Rindy with her, trusting her.  
  
'He found out eventually. For a while, Carol had been very good at playing the perfect wife and mother when he was around. But a few months into her affair with Gen, she was spiralling out of control. He noticed she was different. He noticed that her and Rindy were distant, as if she didn't even recognise her own mother any more. But everything came out when he came home from a business trip on an earlier flight, arriving home at four in the morning to a group of strangers passed out in his living room and Carol and Gen asleep in his bed. Rindy was fast asleep in her bedroom. That was the last straw. Harge knew Carol was unfaithful and decided he'd put up with it for long enough. And now he knew that she wasn't looking after Rindy properly, he took her away.  
  
'That was the wake-up call Carol needed. She cleaned up her act, broke things off with Gen. I don't think she ever blamed her, but it took them a long time to rebuild their friendship after that. Carol knew it was her own fault she lost Rindy. She's proven that she's a capable mother, but it's looking like Harge is going to keep full custody of her, no matter how she tries to fight it. Gen and her are completely clean now, minus the alcohol, and she won't stop fighting to see Rindy. Harge is still wary of her, but it's getting better, even if Carol thinks it's getting worse. I'm doing my best to convince him to let Carol see her more, and it's working, slowly but surely. There were those months that Carol was a completely different person, but it's long over. Whatever happens, she'll never forgive herself'.  
  
'What happened to Carol? After she ended things with Genevieve?'  
  
'You mean how she felt about leaving her? She was over it in a second. She didn't have time to think about it, because Rindy and her separation from Harge were the only things on her mind'.  
  
'And what about Gen?'  
  
'Gen never loved Carol. At least, not in that way. As friends, they were head over heels for one another. Always had been. But Gen never had any responsibilities like Carol did. She didn't have a family to think about. She thought being with Carol would be a bit of fun, but she was too careless to realise what would happen to Carol. And she regretted it afterwards. I got her to talk about it, if you can believe it. She really missed having Carol around. She would have done anything to get her friendship back. So she waited until Carol was ready to come back to her. I think the whole thing hit her way harder than she thought it would'.  
  
Therese's mind flashed back to Dannie's story, about his cousin who befriended Gen before she shut him out completely. It was around the same time, she was sure of it. Around the time that Carol stopped seeing Gen.   
  
She wasn't a stone-cold bitch, like Dannie had said, incapable of emotion. She was just hurting.  
  
'To be honest, I think she still gets jealous when she sees Carol with someone else', Abby admitted. 'Especially with you'.  
  
'Why me?' Therese frowned. 'Gen doesn't care about me'.  
  
'She does, honey', Abby said earnestly. 'She cares more than you think. More than anyone thinks. Sure, she's colder than most people, and she still acts like a reckless teenager, but she cares. I think the idea of you being with Carol scares her'.  
  
Therese's stomach dropped, like she'd reached the top of the rollercoaster and the track sent her plummeting back down the ground.   
  
Abby carried on, oblivious. 'Like together, you might turn against her, and she'll lose you both. Unsurprisingly, Gen doesn't have many real friends, and finding someone she has an actual connection with is hard for her. She likes you, though. I can tell'.  
  
Therese swallowed. 'The idea of me being with Carol?'  
  
'Are you surprised?' Abby smirked, eyes flashing as they caught hers in the mirror.  
  
 _Surprised?_ She didn't think she'd ever been so shocked in her life. _Me being with Carol_? What did she mean? That Gen knew how she felt about Carol? Or maybe . . . but it couldn't be.   
  
Gen knew how Carol felt about her.  
  
'Yes', Therese breathed. Her heart was pounding now. 'But how do you know how she feels? Did she tell you? Are you just assuming?'  
  
'She told me', Abby confirmed, 'but by then I already had my suspicions'.  
  
They were approaching Therese's apartment building, and Abby found a parking spot just a little further down the street. She pulled over and turned off the engine, plunging them both into silence.  
  
Therese reached for her purse. She was about to thank Abby for the ride, and for talking with her so honestly, but the older woman spoke first.   
  
'Do you love her?' she asked, still looking at her through the mirror as if she was too scared to turn around and confront her face to face.  
  
'Yes', Therese said without hesitation. It was all she needed to say. It was the whole truth.  
  
'And what about Gen?'  
  
'It’s just physical'.  
  
'That's what everyone says about Gen', Abby said, looking out into the street through her side window, a hint of bitterness in her voice. 'That's what Carol said'.  
  
Therese recognised that same harsh edge in her tone, and the hostility in her expression, the things that always made Therese feel self-conscious when she was around Abby. Like she was unwelcome, or intruding on her and Carol's friendship. Like she didn't belong with Carol.   
  
'Do you hate me?' she asked before she could stop herself.  
  
Abby sighed, still avoiding her eyes. 'No, honey, I don't hate you', she said, softer this time. 'I guess . . . I guess I'm afraid of you. You have so much power over Carol, but you don't even know it. You could ruin her. And when Carol's ruined, there's no coming back for a long time. I watched her fall from grace once before, and I promised myself I would never, ever let that happen again'.  
  
Therese felt a shiver run down her spine.  
  
Abby finally looked at her again. 'Before anything happens, I just need you to think about what you want. I need to know your intentions with Carol'.  
  
'Abby, I thought I was the only one who felt this way', Therese said defensively.  
  
'But you love her', Abby said, like that was all that mattered.  
  
Maybe it was, Therese thought. Maybe it could be that simple.  
  
'I do'.  
  
'Then you must have thought about it'.  
  
'I have', she admitted after a moment.  
  
'I just need you to mean it. If you lead Carol on, it'll break her'. Abby's eyes were pleading in the mirror. 'Tell me you know what you're doing'.  
  
Therese looked at her lap. 'I don’t. I never did'.

 


	10. What Genevieve Knew

Carol's workshop was three days later, and Therese had been dreading it. Sitting around the table at the beginning of the session, she could feel the eyes on her from all angles. She tried to look anywhere else but into the faces of the other students, who would quickly look away as if they'd never been staring at all. But she couldn't even look at Carol either. It was too much.  
  
Her feelings for Carol were a force of nature. As strong as a wave as it crashes against the shore, as bright as a flash of lightning against the dark velvet of the night sky. A force so powerful that any mistake from Carol's past would be crushed under its weight. She loved her before she found out the truth, and she loved her still. Who Carol was now was all that mattered to her. She knew it now, she would know it forever. But she was afraid if she looked at Carol, it might somehow show on her face. Then the group would look at her even more strangely.  
  
They broke apart after the first ten minutes, going to the computers to work on the photographs they'd taken over the past week. The assignment was a dream for Therese. Carol had asked them each to go somewhere in the city they wouldn't usually visit and take pictures of the people there. The point was to gain an insight into the lives of people different from themselves. Therese had been doing that for as long as she could remember.  
  
She'd gone all the way out to Brighton Beach six days earlier and spent the afternoon there. She'd invited Dannie to join her, but he was too busy with schoolwork. In the end, she'd enjoyed the solitude. Just her and her camera, and the occasional interaction with a kind stranger. Away from everything that waited for her back in Manhattan.  
  
And, of course, everything had taken a turn for the worst since Genevieve's party. She hadn't spoken to Gen, or Abby, or even Carol. Carol had sent her a text, telling her she knew what Abby had told her, and that she should call whenever she was ready. Therese hadn't called yet.  
  
And then suddenly she was in the studio again and she couldn't avoid her any longer. She could have skipped the workshop, but she didn't see the point. It would only stretch things out more than they needed to be. It was time now.  
  
Therese stuck her headphones in for the entire two hours, focus fixed on her computer, though she was seriously lacking in motivation. She just couldn't put her heart into this project now. But Carol understood, and she didn't try to sit with her, spending extra time with the other students instead.  
  
It didn't stop the clock though. Soon their time was up, and the room emptied slowly as goodbyes were said to Carol and the front door invited in a blast of cool air from the cold February afternoon. Therese shivered every time.  
  
She stayed where she was until the last of the students had left. Only then did she take out her earphones and let the silence flood her ears. She turned around.   
  
Carol was leaning against the side wall, arms folded.   
  
'I think we need to talk, don't we?'  
  
And for the first time that day, Therese really looked at her. Loose grey t-shirt tucked into black trousers. White Converse sneakers. Wavy hair pulled back in a messy ponytail.  
  
 _God, she’s so beautiful._  
  
Therese nodded, turning her chair around so it faced the centre of the room. Carol came over to sit on one of the middle tables, gently swinging her legs beneath it.  
  
'I know you must be . . . confused about everything Abby told you', she began.  
  
'Not confused', Therese corrected. 'Just surprised'.  
  
'Does it bother you?' Carol asked, biting her lip. There was worry etched across her face.  
  
'No', Therese replied simply.  
  
'Please be honest with me, darling'.  
  
'I am being honest', she protested. 'It doesn't bother me. What's past is past. It's just difficult to get my head around'.   
  
'Okay', Carol conceded, nodding slowly.  
  
'Were you ever going to tell me?'  
  
Carol sighed. 'I wanted to. But I never found the right time. It was too weird to me, we could have been sitting in the middle of the conversation and I would have casually dropped the bomb. It seemed so out of place'.  
  
'I could never have guessed. When I saw you together, you were just like old friends. No sign that there could have been anything else'.  
  
'Because we've moved past it. Now it's just something stupid we did. Not exactly forgotten, but almost. We really are just friends. Even when we were having an affair it wasn't anything more'.  
  
'So you were never in love with her?'  
  
Carol shook her head. 'No. My one true love was Rindy, and I screwed it up, because my loneliness from my marriage kept me from seeing that she was the most important thing. I didn't need Gen. I just wanted someone. But we could never have worked'.  
  
Therese thought about the two women. _How different they are_ , she thought. Carol, made of sparks, and Gen, as cold as ice.   
  
Electricity and cold, cold water. _No wonder they didn’t work out._  
  
'Things were messy when I broke up with Gen, as you can imagine', Carol continued. 'We went from seeing each other almost every day to me cutting her out completely. And she kind of freaked out. Abby and I were her only true friends in New York, and she knew Abby would stand by me if I decided never to speak to her again. I almost didn't. I was so mad at her. But it didn't take me long to realise I couldn't blame her. Everything we did was my choice. My mistake. Gen was just trying to make me happy when I was miserable. Yeah, she had a stupid way of going about it. But it worked, and for a while, I was happy. Until I remembered running away from my responsibilities was not the way to deal with them.   
  
'I reached out to her, in the end. It was weird at first, and it took us a while to get our friendship back, but we did it and I won't ever regret inviting her back into my life. When I was just starting out, and no one believed in my ambition, she was always the one standing by me. I owe so much to her. We've been friends for so long, I can't imagine not having her around'.  
  
'What about Harge?' Therese asked. 'Does he know you still see each other?'  
  
'Harge knows everything about everything. I thought I owed him that much. Besides, Abby would have told him if I hadn't. He's not exactly thrilled with the idea, and he doesn't trust her to be left alone with Rindy, but he doesn't insist that she stays away. He knows her well, after all. I was married to Harge before I even met Gen'.   
  
'And what about you? Is Harge going to keep you from seeing Rindy?'  
  
'I don't think so. According to Abby, he has every intention of bringing her over more. He doesn't want to keep us apart, he's just learning to trust me, which is understandable. But I will respect his decision, whatever it is. He's the most wonderful father to Rindy. He'd do anything for her. He even cut back his hours at his job so he doesn't have to work or travel as much. So I won't be fighting him for custody, because I wouldn't win. But he did say he's going to prioritise what Rindy wants. If she wants to see me, he'll arrange something, and if she doesn't, then there's not much I can do'.  
  
She looked down at the floor at the last words, and Therese felt a painful squeeze on her heart. Carol wasn't a pessimist, she knew that, but she also understood how hard it must be to find the light in this darkness.   
  
'It'll work out'.  
  
Carol looked up at her, and smiled sadly. 'I know. Sometimes it's just hard for me to see it. But it's okay. Things could be a lot worse'.  
  
'Then why does Gen think you don't forgive her?' Therese questioned.  
  
Carol shifted uncomfortably. 'She and I never really talked about it'.  
  
'Talked about what?'  
  
'Any of it'.  
  
Therese blinked. 'You're not serious'.  
  
'You know what Gen's like', Carol said defensively. 'She's impossible. You try to have a serious conversation with her, and she just shuts you down. That's what happened to me, anyway. Abby said she got more out of her, but any time I tried to talk to her about it, to tell her I never blamed her for losing Rindy, she changed the subject'.  
  
'But surely she knew that anyway. Why would you have reached out to her otherwise?'  
  
'She wasn't convinced. In her mind, I would have been her friend until she put one foot out of line, and then I would have abandoned her. Like I was holding our friendship over her like some kind of power play, ready to snatch it back at any moment. It sounds crazy to me, but that's what she thought. She thought I wanted revenge, and I was going to get it by turning you against her. That's why she broke down on that night, out of all nights. She saw us two together and assumed the worst. You were the catalyst. You know that, right?'  
  
Therese nodded.   
  
'I guess she thought we were plotting against her or something. She's way more insecure than she seems. But we talked things over, finally. And she's so embarrassed about acting out like that in front of a bunch of her students'.  
  
Therese looked at her lap. 'Everyone knows now', she said quietly.  
  
'About you and Gen?'  
  
She nodded. 'People stare at me now. I hear them talking about me when they think I'm not listening. They call me a slut. They say I only got accepted at school because I fucked my way to the top. I try not to let it bother me, because honestly, what else did I think was going to happen? I should have known it would have gotten out eventually. I just didn't think there'd be this big public showdown. People are gonna be talking about it for months'.  
  
'Yeah, I guess you could never have seen that one coming. Has anyone said something to you?'  
  
Therese shook her head. 'They don't speak to me, they just look at me so judgmentally. I think the silence might be worse than if people just said what they thought of me. At least then I wouldn't have to hear it though the rumour mill'.  
  
'It'll work out', Carol repeated her earlier line back to her.  
  
Despite everything, Therese smiled. She was right, of course. Something else would happen soon enough, and the attention of the art students would be directed somewhere else. She just had to get through these next few weeks first. So maybe none of her classmates would like her. It didn't matter. She never really knew them anyway, and Dannie was the only true friend she needed.  
  
And she had Carol, who she now knew more intimately than ever. The whole story didn't bother her, not really. She was just glad it was out in the open.  
  
'Thank you for being honest with me, Carol', Therese told her.  
  
'I'm just sorry I didn't tell you sooner. You must feel like I've lied to you'.  
  
'You didn't lie. You just didn't tell me. Honestly, I don't think anything good would have come from telling me sooner'.  
  
'Maybe not. But I won't keep any more secrets from here, okay?'  
  
'Okay'.   
  
'What are you going to do now?' Carol asked tentatively.  
  
Therese sighed. 'I have to break up with Gen. Not just because of the party. I've been thinking about it for a while. Being with her is way more stress than it's worth. I just can't do it any more'.  
  
'You've been unhappy for a while?'  
  
She nodded. 'I haven't done it earlier because I didn't want to let her go and be alone again. Not because I didn't want to hurt her, by ending things. I never worried about that. I never thought it would be a big deal to her anyway. But after the party, I'm not so sure any more'.  
  
Carol shrugged. 'Friends with benefits are like Gen's versions of relationships. She's always kinda fragile after one of her little arrangements comes to an end'.  
  
'She doesn't make any sense to me', Therese confessed, shaking her head. 'Why is she like she is?'  
  
'Her father', Carol replied simply.  
  
Therese frowned. 'Why? What did he do?'  
  
'It's not what he did, it's just how he is', Carol sighed. 'Gen's mother died when she was very young, too young to remember her', she explained. 'Her father was very strict with her when she was growing up. He'd wanted a son, but Gen was an only child, so she would have do. He was a top lawyer in London, and he raised her to be tough, to stand up for herself, even if it meant stepping on other people in the process. He gave her a beautiful home, and a good education, but he never gave her love, and the only thing of romance she ever saw was the string of women he brought home every weekend.  
  
'She hated him for it, when she grew up and felt different to everyone around her. She was wickedly smart, but emotionally empty. It didn't stop her from becoming him, though. Art was her escape, as were the men and women she slept with and discarded the morning after. But they were never enough. She had a couple of boyfriends, when I knew her in London, but they never worked out. She said she didn't think love was meant for her. It's why she's so strict with her students, and why she abandons her lovers when she's bored of them. She doesn't know how to be anything else'.  
  
Carol shot her a sad smile.

 

'Oh', was all Therese could think to say. The sad tale had knocked all the breath out of her.   
  
_It’s not an excuse, but it’s an explanation_ , she thought. _Oh, Gen._  
  
Carol continued, oblivious. 'So she tells them it’s over, sits in her apartment for a few days having a little existential crisis and questioning what she's doing with her life, then she moves on. She paints. She never paints better than when she's alone. And whoever she just left is trying to get her back'. She looked at Therese. 'She breaks hearts. But she hasn't broken yours'.  
  
'No'.  
  
'Why?'  
  
'Because I knew what I was doing’, Therese explained. ‘I always knew this would just be a short-term thing. I knew we had an expiry date'.  
  
'And you were okay with that?'  
  
She nodded. 'She doesn't make me happy. I could never be with her romantically'.  
  
'Then what was it all for? Why did you go to her?'  
  
'I wanted to be with somebody', Therese confessed. 'I was feeling so lonely, and I just wanted someone to be there, even just on a physical level. That's what I wanted from Gen. I knew from the beginning what I was getting myself into. Everyone knows Gen's got a reputation. But it worked for me, because I knew I could never love her. Everything I ever felt for her, it was just fascination. But that's all it was. It wasn't like . . . like what I have with you'.  
  
Carol looked at the ground. 'I'm so sorry to disappoint you, Therese', she said, ashamed. 'You must hate me, now you know everything I've done'.  
  
Therese shook her head. 'I don't hate you'.

 

 _Say it_.

 

'Carol, I love you'.  
  
The older woman raised her head slowly to meet her eyes, and Therese held her in her sights, desperate to look away out of fear for finally admitting her feelings out loud, but unable to at the same time. She meant it, and she needed Carol to see. She needed Carol to look into her eyes, and without a doubt she would know that it was the truth.  
  
'I know I just said no more secrets, but I'm starting to regret it', Carol said quietly, voice shaking slightly.  
  
'Why?'  
  
'Because I'm scared', she admitted. 'I'm scared to tell you'.  
  
'I'm scared too', Therese assured her. 'But I just thought you should know'.  
  
There was that same look of fear on Carol's face that Therese recognised too often, the one that she wished she could wipe from her face and never see again.  
  
'Abby told you, didn't she?' Carol asked.  
  
'Yes'.  
  
'And Gen, she knew too'.  
  
'Yes'.  
  
Carol's eyes shone. 'Then you already know it’s true', she whispered, giving her a small smile.  
  
'But I need you to say it', Therese pressed. 'I need you to make it real'.  
  
She got up slowly and walked over to where Carol sat, watching her. It was that magnetic force between them again. It had always been there. It pulled her towards Carol, whether she wanted it to or not. And she wanted it. God, she wanted it.  
  
And she wanted Carol. Not just physically, like the lust she had felt before that satisfied her temporarily and left her feeling cold and empty afterwards. She wanted all of her. Her intelligence, her kindness, her wisdom, her love. She wanted to spend the rest of her time knowing her, uncovering the tiniest details on walks in the park or talking over breakfast or tangled beneath crumpled bedsheets. She wanted all of it. All of her past, all of her present, so she could be all of her future. It was more than she'd ever felt for anyone. This was what she'd been searching for, and it was worth every second of the wait.  
  
'Tell me it's true, Carol', she whispered, standing in front of her.  
  
She felt long fingers lace through her own, and Carol looked up at her.  
  
'It is true', she answered. 'I love you'.  
  
Carol's hand snaked around the back of Therese's neck, gently pulling her closer until, finally, their lips met. It was soft at first, as Carol let go of Therese's hand to wrap her other arm around her waist, pulling her closer still so their bodies were pressed together. Therese wrapped her arms around Carol's neck, her lips pressing harder against Carol's as Carol's arms continued to push against her back, pulling her in.   
  
They needed each other. There was a desperation in Carol's strong arms around her that Therese could only reciprocate with the crushing of her lips against hers, her tongue pushing inside of her mouth, her own arms gripping at the back of Carol's shoulders like she feared letting go.  
  
She was lost in the scent of Carol's perfume and the warmth of her mouth against her own, feeling like it was exactly where she was meant to be. She was lost, and she was found.  
  
 _Please let this moment last forever_ , she thought, as Carol pulled back, shining eyes searching her face, and smiled.  
  
'My angel', Carol whispered, palm still caressing her cheek. 'Flung out of space'.

 


	11. Loves Me, Loves Me Not

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we finally have our girls together! But there a couple of things to clear up first . . .   
> Thanks for all the kind comments.

Therese snatched her hand away just in time, before the red-hot kettle could burn her. She cursed under her breath, and lifted her hand to inspect her fingertips. The skin there was red, but no damage had been done. She went to the sink and ran them under the cold water for a moment anyway.  
  
She'd been walking around in this clumsy kind of daze for a week now, since she had kissed Carol in the studio. Everything that had happened since that day had been a blur, like every moment in her life was now to be categorised in relation to it. _Before Carol told me she loved me, after Carol told me she loved me._ Everything appeared new and vibrant, and the grimy streets of her neighbourhood and the tiny apartment she lived in seemed more beautiful than she'd ever noticed.  
  
She knew it was true now. She knew what she felt, what she had never felt before. She was in love. Truly, deeply.  
  
And Dannie could see it. He'd been teasing her all week over her newly discovered enthusiasm for the mundanity of the everyday. But he knew. Therese hadn't told him, but she was sure he knew. He could read her like that. Though, for how obvious she was being, any stranger in the city could have read her.  
  
Dannie was smiling at her now, gratefully accepting the cup of coffee she handed him and she curled up on the couch beside him, crossing her legs.  
  
'Burned yourself again?' he teased. 'Jesus Christ, Tee. I'm scared to leave you alone in this apartment. I'll come back and you'll have fallen through a window or set the kitchen on fire'.  
  
'Shut up', she pushed him playfully.  
  
'Hey, watch the coffee!' he pushed her hand away and steadied the cup before the brown liquid could slosh over the side.  
  
'Sorry', she mumbled.   
  
Therese checked the slim leather watch on her left wrist, and she felt her heart sink. She'd promised herself she'd go this afternoon and get it over with. But it was already 12.35, which meant she was officially out of excuses.  
  
'Today's the day, isn't it?' Dannie asked observantly. 'You've been so out of it all morning'.  
  
'I've been trying to mentally prepare myself', she explained sullenly.  
  
'By moping about?'  
  
'I just . . . I feel weird'.  
  
'You _act_ weird'.  
  
'Do you blame me?' she said defensively. 'I've never done this before'.   
  
'Yes you have', he pointed out. 'You broke up with Richard'.  
  
'Yeah, but that was different'.  
  
He frowned. 'How?'  
  
'It . . . it just was'.  
  
'So by “I've never done this before” you mean “I've never told my teacher slash friend with benefits slash fire-breathing dragon that I want to stop fucking her”'.  
  
Therese laughed in spite of herself. 'When you put it that way, I'm sure a lot of people have never done that before'.   
  
'Unsurprisingly. Only you could get yourself into this kind of mess'.   
  
'You're so supportive', she smiled sarcastically.  
  
Dannie made a face. 'I have been supportive. But, as your best friend, it’s my duty to tell you when you've done something idiotic. I think getting involved with Genevieve Cantrell qualifies as that'.  
  
'Yeah. I know'.  
  
'So how are you going to do it?'  
  
Therese sighed. 'I'm just gonna tell her the truth. It won't be difficult to explain, she knows it's coming anyway. But it'll be difficult to say it'.  
  
'You're not having second thoughts, are you?'  
  
'Of course not. I want to be with Carol. But I still feel kinda bad about it'.  
  
'You only feel bad because you're dumping her and she's not dumping you. And she's not used to that'.  
  
Therese nodded. 'I guess you're right. I'm leaving the woman who never gets left, and as someone who's broken up with a grand total of one person ever, that's a pretty big step'.   
  
'There's also the fact that you're leaving her for her best friend', he pointed out.  
  
She glared at him. 'That isn't helping'.  
  
'What? It's not my fault it's so complicated. That was all your doing'.  
  
'I never meant for any of this to happen', she groaned, hiding her face in her hands.  
  
'Yeah, but I bet you're glad it did. If you didn't mess everything up like you have, you and Carol might never even have met'.   
  
Therese smiled. 'Yeah'.   
  
'And you shouldn't trade that for anything'.  
  
'I would never'.  
  
'See? Everything is perfect. So stop worrying'.  
  
Therese looked at him adoringly. 'Thank you', she said earnestly.   
  
'Any time. Now, can you go away already, 'cause Kristen's coming over'.  
  
'You and her are getting pretty serious, huh?'  
  
'I think so', he smiled shyly. 'I hope so'.  
  
'When do I get to meet her?'  
  
'You don't'.  
  
'What! Why?'  
  
'I'm not dragging her into the shit-show that is your life!' he teased. 'Sort out your mess, then we'll talk'.  
  
Therese threw a cushion at him, spilling the rest of his coffee over the couch.  
  


* * *

  
  
Genevieve didn't even say hello when she answered the door. She just stepped aside and allowed Therese to go in, like she'd been expecting her. Therese ducked through the door and hovered awkwardly at the entrance while Gen closed the door behind her. Remaining in silence, the professor went to sit on the couch in the corner, the same one she sat on with Carol at the party. It seemed so long ago now. Gen laid back into the cushion and crossed one leg over the other. Therese chose the couch opposite, but she couldn't relax quite the same. She sat up straight, dropped her bag at her feet, and waited for Gen to say something.  
  
Gen just eyed her, like she was expecting the same thing. But, eventually, she was the one to bring them out of their tense silence.  
  
'I thought you would have called', she said in her monotone voice.  
  
Therese searched her face, but there was nothing that she could discern. Her expression was as even and unintelligible as ever.   
  
'I just needed some time', Therese responded.  
  
'Yeah. I don't blame you. I heard Abby told you everything'.   
  
'Are you mad?'  
  
'Of course! Abby had no right to tell you that'.  
  
Therese frowned. 'But you think you could have gotten away with not telling me?'  
  
'No. I just thought Carol would have done it'.  
  
'Carol was with _you_ , remember? She couldn't tell me that night because she was dealing with your grand performance'.   
  
Gen pouted. 'Come on', she challenged. 'Let me have it'.  
  
Therese rolled her eyes. 'You just had to make a scene, didn't you? No one could have expected anything less from Genevieve Cantrell'.  
  
'People always said I had a flair for the dramatic', she responded with a hint of pride. It irritated Therese.  
  
'So it was your intention?' she demanded.  
  
'I never said that'.  
  
'You made out like I was some prize to be won in front of everyone. Like you and Carol were fighting over me. You humiliated me'.  
  
'I overreacted', she stated simply.  
  
'You overreacted?' Therese repeated in disbelief. 'That's your explanation?'  
  
'Well, what do you want me to say?'  
  
'Sorry, maybe?'  
  
'But I'm not sorry'.  
  
'Stop being a bitch'.  
  
'You're the one who's insinuating that I outed us like that on purpose'.  
  
Therese shook her head. 'Whatever, we don't have to talk about that now. You already know why I'm here'.  
  
Gen raised an eyebrow. 'You mean you didn't come here just to spend time with me?'

  
'Don't joke. I could never tell if you mean it'.  
  
Gen looked down then, and Therese knew she was finally facing up to what was coming. She softened when she saw it, letting go of her anger.  
  
'You're going to leave me', Gen stated quietly.  
  
'Yeah, Gen', Therese smiled sadly. 'You know I have to'.  
  
Gen looked up at her again, and that moment of vulnerability had vanished as quickly as it had come, her face settling into its mask again. 'You took your time'.  
  
Therese frowned. 'What?'  
  
'I thought you would have been on the phone the next morning telling me to go fuck myself'.  
  
'But I already knew the full story by then'.  
  
'That's what I mean, though. Abby told you everything, about how I tore Carol's life apart, and then she calls me afterwards to tell me not only are you not mad, but you also forgive me'.  
  
'There's nothing to forgive. It was never any of my business. This was years before I even met you. I don't have any right to be mad at you about it'.  
  
'Carol should never have forgiven me. Any ordinary person wouldn't have'.  
  
'But Carol isn't an ordinary person', Therese answered back without hesitation.

Gen blinked at the suddenness of it.  
  
'Do you love her?' she asked.  
  
'Yeah, Gen'.  
  
'Did you ever love me?'  
  
'No'.  
  
'Why not?'  
  
Therese shifted uncomfortably. 'You could be pretty awful to me'.  
  
'But I could be good to you too'.  
  
Therese almost laughed at the ridiculousness of it. It was so out of character for Gen, and she didn't know why she was suddenly bringing this up.   
  
'Why do you even care?' she asked. ‘ _You_ don't love _me_ '.  
  
Gen looked at her. 'I thought I could'.  
  
'Bullshit'.  
  
'It's true', she mumbled.   
  
'No, it's not', Therese fired back, her anger resurfacing. 'You treated me like I was nothing. You wouldn't have done that if you loved me'.  
  
Gen looked out of the window, contemplating. 'You were different than everyone else. I thought maybe we could have been something more'.  
  
'But then I turned out to be just another one of your sluts', Therese said harshly. 'Sorry to disappoint you'.  
  
Gen snapped back to her. 'That's not true and you know it'.  
  
'No, I don't know it', Therese retorted, raising her voice. 'You have _never_ been honest with me, so don't try to tell me I should know what you're thinking. And don't try to pretend I was anything more to you than some toy for you to play with. Don't try to get me to say I loved you just to boost your already sky-high ego. Stop acting like a spoilt brat'.   
  
Gen glared at her. 'Now who's being a bitch?'  
  
'I don't care. You need to hear it, and if I don't tell you, no one else will. Everyone steps on eggshells around you 'cause they're too afraid of you. But you're not so high and mighty. You're just a person. It's what I told Dannie, before we'd even met. I told him I wasn't scared of you, but you pushed my fucking limits, Gen!'  
  
Gen frowned. 'Who's Dannie?'  
  
Therese gaped at her in disbelief. 'My roommate! My best friend! I can't believe you forgot that!'  
  
Gen closed her eyes, dropping her head to the floor. 'I'm sorry. I remember now'.  
  
'See? This is what I mean. How are we supposed to be friends when you don't listen to a word I say? How am I supposed to believe you care about me?'  
  
'I do care', Gen responded quietly.   
  
'Yeah, I know that now, but only because Abby told me. _You_ never told me because you wouldn't let me in for two fucking seconds. You treat me like shit, Gen. Then you expect me to know how you really feel about me'.  
  
'You want the truth? Fine,' Gen lashed out, finally reaching Therese’s level of anger. 'Here it is. I thought when I met you that you were more than anyone I'd had before. I thought maybe I was falling in love with you. I wasn't. Because what I felt for you doesn't compare to what you have with Carol. It doesn't matter now anyway, because you two have each other, and I'm back where I'm meant to be. Alone'.  
  
Now it was Therese's turn to back down. Gen's confession shrank her until frustration remained, but she didn't have the power to shout back.  
  
'Why didn't you just tell me any of this before?'   
  
'Because I didn't want you to know'.  
  
'Why not?'  
  
'I just didn't, okay!' Gen snapped.  
  
Therese ran her hands through her hair in frustration. 'What is it with you?' she demanded. 'Do you think showing people what you really feel is going to make you less powerful? Less respected? Does it really turn you on so much to know that people are scared of you?'  
  
Gen remained silent and perfectly still, but her eyes burned with a simmering rage.  
  
'That's now how things work, Gen!'  
  
'Maybe to you. It's not so simple for me'.  
  
'You're right', Therese shouted. 'And it's not simple for anyone around you either. You're the most complicated person I've ever met, and the stress of knowing you far outweighs the benefits'.  
  
'I'm sorry I'm not convenient enough for you', Gen bit back.  
  
Therese looked at her, saw the fire in her eyes, her clenched fists in her lap. How she was holding herself together, never allowing herself to lose control. The woman Therese was before all of this would have found it dangerous and sexy and alluring. But not anymore. Not now she really knew Gen. Not now she knew what was behind the slim figure and sleek hair and red lipstick, the old object of her fascinations.   
  
She looked at her, and she truly saw her. When all her beauty and mystery was taken away, she was only left with emptiness.  
  
'No, Gen', she said, quieter now, but with a voice as sharp as a knife. 'You're just a heartless bitch who's never going to have a normal relationship with anyone until she can quit being so self-obsessed and learn that the world doesn't revolve around her'.  
  
Therese waited for the words to sink in, but she wasn't sure if they ever did. Gen barely reacted, just sat there, glaring.   
  
The professor narrowed her eyes. 'Are you done?' she said icily.  
  
She was giving her such a poisonous look Therese was sure she'd be dead if she stayed in her eyeline any longer. And she knew it was time to go. She'd said her piece, and she wished it had gone better but she always forgot how impossible Gen was until she argued with her. She wanted to stay and scream until her lungs burned, but she knew no good would come of it.   
  
'Oh, I'm done alright', she declared coldly.  
  
Gen glowered. 'Then get out and don't ever come back'.  
  
Therese didn't need to be asked twice. In a matter of seconds, she had grabbed her bag and was storming out into the hall. She didn't know if Gen watched her go. She never looked back.  
  
She slammed the door behind her, and made to walk down the hall towards the elevator. But for some reason, she couldn't do it. Couldn't move forward, and definitely couldn't go back. And, suddenly, like a cork popping from a bottle of champagne, she burst into tears, rage and hurt fizzing out of her, seeping through her fingers as she buried her face in her hands.  
  
Anger always made her cry the most, more than sadness. When she was truly furious, she would cry and cry until the sobs racked her body and she was practically shaking. Sure enough, the tears were coming hard and fast now, and she was sure she wouldn't be able to stop.   
  
Leaning against the wall behind her, she sank to the floor. And she swore, on the other side, she could hear Gen doing exactly the same thing.

 


	12. Crying in Black and White

It was a Thursday evening when Carol asked Therese to go to dinner with her. She was in East Village, hoping to meet at a little Italian restaurant a few blocks over from Therese's apartment. Therese's heart leapt when she got the call.  
  
She hadn't seen Carol in a while. Since before she broke up with Genevieve, in fact. Their only communication had been via texting. But Therese never imagined something might be wrong.

Carol had been acting a little distant over the past couple of weeks, but she expected that. Everything was moving so fast. It was only natural for Carol to need some space to think things over. For Therese, on the other hand, it was easy. She loved Carol, and she wanted to be with her. It was that simple. And with only that thought in her mind, she waltzed into the restaurant at eight o'clock with all the optimism she'd ever felt.  
  
The first sign came when she saw her.   
  
Carol was there already, towards the back of the restaurant where a huge canvas of the Grand Canal in Venice hung on the wall, seated at a table for two in the centre, with other couples to each side. The restaurant was not busy, but not quiet either, and the hum of conversation and laughter hung in the air, welcoming her inside. It was cosy and unpretentious, exactly how she liked it. How she knew Carol liked it too.   
  
When Carol saw her, her face darkened, like a cloud had passed over it. She gave Therese a tight smile. It was formal and polite, like she was giving a job interview rather than welcoming the woman she loved. It was nothing like the look she usually gave Therese when she saw her. That was the first sign something was wrong.  
  
Therese brushed it off.  
  
She told the waiter who came to seat her that her date was already here, and he took her to Carol's table, handing her a menu as she sat down. She thanked him, and with a polite nod, she was left alone with Carol.  
  
'Hi', she said, shrugging off her denim jacket.  
  
'Hello, darling', Carol said. Her face was illuminated by the candle that burned between them, casting a golden glow over her face, making her eyes sparkle.   
  
'I'm glad you called. I missed you'.   
  
Carol held up the bottle of red wine in the middle of the table. 'Wine?'  
  
'Please', Therese accepted gratefully. She watched as Carol poured the deep crimson liquid into her glass. She already had one herself. In fact, judging by the line on the bottle, she'd already had more than one. That was the second sign something was wrong.   
  
'How have you been?' Therese asked.  
  
'Better. The divorce has been finalised, so that's one thing I can stop worrying about'.  
  
'That's great news', Therese said encouragingly.   
  
'Yes', Carol said, though she didn't sound convinced. 'I'm just glad it's all over'.  
  
'And how is Rindy?'  
  
'She's wonderful. At least, that's what Abby tells me. I haven't seen her'.  
  
'Why not?'  
  
'Harge and I got into a fight. We screamed at each other for hours, and while he's still mad at me, he's not going to bring Rindy over'.  
  
'I'm sorry'.  
  
'It's alright. I hope this is just a minor setback'.   
  
'Was the fight really that bad?'  
  
Carol looked away. 'I don't want to talk about it'.  
  
Therese nodded her head in acceptance. 'Okay'.  
  
She tried to ask Carol more about their time apart, realising how little they had been in contact, but the older woman would give her answers which were short or vague, and sink back into silence until Therese could prompt something else from her.   
  
She wasn't herself. Therese had seen it the moment she walked in, but her happiness to see Carol was so overwhelming, it allowed her to forget. She willed Carol to come back, but there was no reaching out to her. She was isolated in whatever distant state of mind she was stuck in.   
  
Carol's eyes weren't shining because she was happy to see her, they were shining with water, like she was holding back tears. Therese watched as she sipped her wine, eyes anywhere but on her, flickering away when they made contact with Therese's own. There was something in the way her hand shook slightly as she placed the glass back down on the table, the way she almost opened her mouth to talk, the way she bit her lip at the last moment. That was the third sign.   
  
'Carol', Therese said gently. 'Is there something wrong?'  
  
Carol looked up at her, startled, like her secret had been discovered. After a moment, she relaxed, drawing circles around the top of her wine glass with the tip of her index finger. 'I hoped we could have dinner first', she smiled sadly.   
  
'You can tell me anything', Therese invited.  
  
Carol sighed, closing her eyes. 'I think we have a lot to talk about'.  
  
'We do', Therese agreed, voice even.   
  
Carol looked up. 'But I think what you want to talk about is going to be very different from what I have to tell you'.  
  
Therese frowned. 'What?'  
  
'I've been thinking a lot over this time we've spent apart. About where we go from here, about how we could move forward together. And the more I think, the less I believe it’s possible'.   
  
'I don't understand-'  
  
'Please, darling, listen to me', Carol interrupted. The watery shine in her eyes was impossible to ignore now. It scared Therese. 'You know I care very deeply about you, and that I want you to be happy no matter what. Which is why', she took a deep breath, 'I think its best if we don't see each other anymore'.  
  
Therese felt a numbness spread throughout her body, leaving her unable to move. She searched Carol's face, every last spark of optimism telling her this might just be a big joke. But Carol had a calm look on her face despite the tears in her eyes, sat on the boundary between control and losing it all.   
  
'Don't say that', she whispered. She couldn't think of any other response.  
  
'It’s the only way', Carol said regretfully. 'A relationship between us could never work. You know that'.  
  
'No, I don't know that', Therese fired back, hurt giving way to anger. 'Why won't it?'  
  
'Because we're at completely different places in our lives, we have such different priorities. I have a daughter to think about, and my ex-husband's trust to win back. And you, Therese, you still have so much to do. You're so young'.  
  
'You think that matters to me? I might be young, but I'm not naive enough to forget there's twelve years between us'.  
  
'Twelve years is a long time'.  
  
'It is', Therese admitted. 'But an age gap doesn't change the way I feel about you'.  
  
'Then you're not being realistic', Carol retorted. Therese flinched, and Carol must have seen it, because she sighed, closed her eyes and shook her head, and brought herself back to calmness. 'I can't ask you to understand where I'm coming from, because you haven't been through the things that I have, but one day you will understand, and you'll know why I have to do this'.  
  
'Carol, don't you see?' Therese cried. 'I want you as you are now. With all your history and your baggage and all the years you have that I don't. I don't wish that you were closer to my age or that you hadn't been married or that you don't have a daughter. Because without all those things, you wouldn't be the person I fell in love with'.  
  
'But those things that you love about me now will be the reason you'll come to resent me later. In a few years, you'll look back and wonder why you wanted to be with someone who had to burden you with all the complications of her life, and why you took on those struggles when you were just starting out, before you could get anywhere close to that bright future that awaits you now. And you won't love me any more'.  
  
'Don't tell me what I'll do', Therese snapped, her voice shaking. She felt the tears pooling in her eyes, but she fought them back. 'You don't know me nearly as well as you think you do'.  
  
'But it's true', Carol insisted. 'Fighting to see Rindy is my first priority now. I can't let anything get in the way of that'.  
  
'So that's all I am to you? A distraction?'  
  
'No, of course not. But I can't let you be with me and feel like you're second best because I already have too much on my mind to be able to love you like you deserve'.  
  
'Stop treating me like a child! I understand that what you're going through is changing your life a little more every day. I understand what it means. Why won't you let me support you?'  
  
'I can't ask you to wait for me'.  
  
A single tear slipped from Therese's eye. She felt it trickle down the side of her nose, and tasted the salt on her lips as it settled there. 'I'd wait forever', she whispered.  
  
'But then I'd never forgive myself'.   
  
Therese looked away, unable to believe what she was hearing, unable to comprehend that this was really happening. _How can she do this to me?_  
  
'I'm sorry it has to be this way'.

  
'It doesn't', she retorted.  
  
She let the tears fall freely now, without a care who was watching. She wiped them away with the back of her hand. Not a single drop had escaped from Carol's eyes. She was doing a remarkable job of holding herself together. Or maybe she just didn't care as much as Therese thought she did.   
  
'Darling, try to understand what I'm doing', Carol pleaded.  
  
Therese looked at her, willed her to see the pain she was causing her, like it would bring her back if she only knew. 'You're breaking my heart', she said, voice cracking with her tears.   
  
'But it's the right thing to do, though it hurts me more than you'll ever know. I have to do the right thing. I have to release you'.  
  
Therese wiped away another stream of tears. 'I love you', she whispered.   
  
Carol looked down at her lap. 'I'm sorry'.  
  
Therese watched her, silently begging her to look up, to say she was wrong, to change her mind. She was desperate. But there was nothing. Carol never met her eyes again, face still tilted towards the floor, like she was hiding. There was only a single tear as Carol finally broke. It didn't seem to matter now.  
  
Therese got up. 'I have to go'.   
  
Carol didn't say anything else. She didn't try to stop her. She didn't even look up to watch her go.   
  
She barged past the concerned-looking waiter at the front of the restaurant and flung the door open, stepping out into the rain and stalking down the street without looking back. The downpour momentarily washed away the tears on her face before another stream trickled from her eyes, and soon it was impossible to tell which was which. Water dripped through her hair, seeping into the denim of her jacket. The material grew heavier around her shoulders, weighing her down as she struggled on against the elements. She snatched her cell phone from her pocket and dialled.  
  
'Hello?' came a familiar voice after a couple of rings.   
  
'Abby?'  
  
'Therese? What is it?' She sounded concerned. Maybe she knew what would happen tonight. Or maybe Carol hadn't told anyone of her plans.  
  
'I just thought you should know you were wrong', Therese cried, suddenly furious at Abby, but unable to shout at her for all the cracking and shaking of her voice, thick with tears. 'Carol never had any intention of being with me'.  
  
'What are you talking about?'  
  
'She told me she loved me, then she said that we would never work out. She won't even give me a chance. It's over, Abby. It's over before it even began'.  
  
'Listen, honey, I don't know what happened between you two tonight, but-'  
  
'Save it', Therese snapped, cutting her off. 'You set me up. You gave me hope that there might be a future for us. You knew Carol would never go through with it'.  
  
'No, I-'  
  
'You lied to me'.  
  
Abby was silent. 'I wasn't sure what would happen', she said after a moment.  
  
'Carol said it would be best if I didn't see her any more', Therese said coldly. 'So I guess this is goodbye, Abby'.  
  
And she hung up.   
  


* * *

  
  
She walked the rest of the way home feeling numb. She looked straight ahead. She didn't try to shelter herself from the pouring rain. She didn't cry.   
  
And that's how she arrived, standing in the entrance to her apartment, water dripping from her clothes and her hair, from the end of her nose. Standing perfectly still, barely aware of her surroundings.  
  
There was Dannie, curled up with Kristen on the couch, his arm around her, the television flickering with light, and a buzz of sound that Therese couldn't make sense of. She'd blocked it all out.  
  
But she walked in, and she stood there, and Dannie immediately jumped up from the couch to come to her, while Kristen slinked off into his room, not wanting to intrude. It was only when Therese felt Dannie's arms around her that the tears came again. She leant into him, crying silently as the rain water soaked through his shirt.   
  
He knew without asking. He knew she had been with Carol tonight, and seeing her in this state, it wasn't difficult to work out what had happened. So he just held her as she fell apart in his arms.   
  
'Now you can say I told you so', Therese said, voice thick with tears and muffled against his chest.  
  
He smiled sadly. 'I would never'.  
  
'You would'.  
  
'Okay, maybe I would. But not tonight'.  
  
'I've been so stupid, Dannie. How could I ever have thought that Carol and me could have a future?'  
  
'I don't know', he sighed. 'For a minute there, I thought it would work out. It seemed like everything had fallen into place'.  
  
Therese pulled away, and wiped at her tear-stained cheeks with the back of her hand. 'This isn't making me feel any better', she told him.  
  
'Sorry'.  
  
'I'm gonna go to bed now. I think I just wanna be on my own for a while'.  
  
'Sure, Tee'. He squeezed her shoulder. 'I'm sorry it turned out like this'.  
  
'Yeah. Me too'.  
  
With a sad smile, Dannie disappeared into his room, and Therese went to hers. In silence, she stripped off her damp clothes and changed into an old shirt to sleep in. She tied her wet hair in a loose braid that hung messily over one shoulder. She moved through all of it with that same numbness she felt walking home, with a heaviness in her limbs that seemed to press down on her, to restrict her. And, though she was so exhausted it felt like she'd run a marathon, her mind was so busy she knew she wouldn't be able to sleep like this.  
  
So she climbed up onto the windowsill, like she so often did when she was thinking. She hugged her knees to her chest, leaned her back against the wall, and rested her temple against the cold glass, watching the rain die down as the sky grew darker with every passing second.  
  
This was really the end, and Therese couldn't help but feel utterly, despairingly hopeless. The crushing sense of emptiness spread like a virus through every inch of her body, so much so that she didn't even have the energy to cry.  
  
She had never known such a feeling, had never understood the true devastation people experienced after a break-up. When people told her about it, or she saw it in a film or read it in a book, she couldn't relate to it. She'd never been in love. Now she felt like she knew.  
  
But still, it was different. Those people had shared their lives with someone, and suddenly, they were gone and they had to figure out how to take that part of their life back from the person who had borrowed it for so long. Therese had never even had that. She loved Carol so deeply, but she had never even had the chance to be with her, to care for her, to love her and make her happy. And that's what made it all so unbearable. She knew she could give Carol everything, but Carol couldn't give it in return. She wouldn't even try.   
  
Therese almost had everything she ever wanted. She was in love with a woman who had told her she loved her too. And now none of it meant anything. Therese was back where she started, in the loneliest place, knowing it was all within her reach before it was snatched away at the last moment.   
  
And now she cried again, as the moonlight slanted in through her window, bathing the side of her face in a silvery glow. Her lower eyelashes were stiff with mascara, and she could feel the dried smudge beneath them. Her face felt tight from the dried tracks that left stains across her cheeks, while new tears ran new paths.  
  
She reached over to the desk at her side and picked up her camera, holding it up in front of her face.  
  
And she turned it on herself.  
  
 _Snap._  
  


 


	13. Midnight with Carol

The nights were the worst. When she was left lying alone in the darkness there was nothing else to think about but Carol. That's when she felt the true strength of their connection, like a rope binding them together by the wrist that Therese couldn't sever no matter how hard she tried. And she did try. She wanted more than anything to be free of her ties, now they caused her nothing but pain. But the rope was too thick, and none of her scissors could cut it.  
  
It had taken a month of trying to move on for Therese to come to a place she was more comfortable in. The wounds hadn't healed completely, but they were no longer open, they no longer stung with that burning pain she'd felt those first few days. Even so, Therese was sure they would leave scars. Maybe she'd never be fully rid of Carol. But she would learn to live with it. She had to.  
  
In truth, she'd been stuck. This new reality she'd had to come to terms with had prevented her from going about her life as normal. Not only had she lost the possibility of having the woman she loved, but she'd also lost a close friend. She missed Carol's company. She missed the Sunday mornings at her apartment, curled up on the couch drinking coffee and talking about anything. She missed the car rides home from the studio, when Carol would drive her all the way back to East Village, just to make sure she got home safe. She missed talking about photography, and the way Carol would give her guidance and talk about the talent Therese was too modest to acknowledge she had. The last of the portraiture workshops had come and gone. Therese didn't show up.   
  
She couldn't see Genevieve either. Therese still felt too awkward about it. When she finally started venturing out and going back to lectures, she'd hidden out at the back of the room and lost herself in a crowd on the way out so she could slip out unseen.   
  
Therese felt bad about some of the things she'd said to Gen last time they spoke. She was being deliberately hurtful, and, as soon as she'd calmed down, she regretted it. Knowing Gen wouldn't answer her calls, Therese wrote her a letter, apologising, and slid it under her office door. They still hadn't spoken, but Gen gave her an A on her final project, so she assumed she was forgiven.  
  
The final project assignment went live two days into Carol's absence, and it was the worst timing. Before the deadline in two weeks, she had to create a concept for the photo series that would make her either pass the class with flying colours or bring her grade average down to the boundary of failure. But at that time, all she was capable of doing was crying. That's when the idea came to her.  
  
She named her series _Crying in Black and White_ and submitted it the day before the deadline, pessimistic about the quality of the work and the state of her grade, but by that point she was just glad she had something to show.  
  
And the photographs were exactly that. Crying in black and white. In different lights, from different angles, in different rooms. Every stage of her sadness, every moment of grief. Every time she felt herself sliding into that dark pit of emptiness, she picked up her camera and turned it on herself, no matter how tired or messy she looked.   
  
Those photographs weren't beautiful, but they were real, and they were true, and Genevieve had once told her that there was no beauty in perfection. Clearly she appreciated that when she came to mark the projects.   
  
Therese felt a swell of pride when she received her final grade. If she'd learned anything from that class, it was that sincerity is more important than beauty, at least when your subjects were people. The same could be applied to life, she supposed. And she'd certainly learned a lot about that since her first lecture.  
  
All the photographs had been returned to her now for the last assignment of the fine art photography class. It was an evaluation of the final project. Therese hadn't even started it, and the photographs were lying scattered across her desk like meaningless papers. How was she supposed to write a piece defending her artistic choices when she felt as though she had no other choice?  
  
She looked at the desk, then turned away again. She wouldn't write tonight. Or the next one, or the next one, if she continued like she had the past few days. The deadline was looming, but she couldn't summon a single care about it.  
  
Tonight was another lonely one. She sat curled up on the couch in tattered jeans and an old Beatles shirt, nursing a glass of red wine. Songs with slow guitars and haunting voices played on in the background, but she wasn't really listening to them. She was just thinking. Sometimes the day wasn't so good, and there was nothing for her to do but to sit and let the hours drift by until midnight rolled around and she could sleep easier, knowing the bad day was over.  
  
It was 11.52 when a knock at the door startled her out of her daze.  
  
Her eyes darted towards the door, as if doing so would allow her to see who was on the other side. She groaned internally.  
  
Who was calling at this time of night? She and Dannie rarely got visitors in the middle of the day, let alone at this hour. And she couldn't send him to go deal with it now, he was over at Kristen's for the night. She put her glass down on the floor next to the couch and went to the door.  
  
And, with a pang of nerves in the pit of her stomach, she opened it to reveal a woman standing out in the hall.  
  
Blonde waves. Light eyes. A suit of electric blue.  
  
 _Carol._    
  


* * *

  
  
'It's a nice place', Carol said politely. She was perched awkwardly on the edge of the couch, not comfortable enough to sit down completely. Therese stayed standing, leaning with her back against the breakfast bar.   
  
'It's not much', she said dismissively.  
  
'It reminds me of my place in London, when I studied there', Carol mused, looking around nostalgically. 'I'd trade my apartment to have that one back any day'.  
  
'But yours is so nice'.  
  
Carol smiled sadly. 'There's no point in having extravagant things if you're not happy'.   
  
Therese saw her eyes dull as she spoke, saw the shine of new tears that Therese knew would never fall. And she was irritated with herself for remembering these small details about Carol, a woman who was no longer in her life, but they were embedded too deep within her memory and she couldn't forget them, though she'd tried. Mostly, she was irritated with Carol, for showing up uninvited in the middle of the night and trying to have some kind of heart to heart.  
  
Therese was in no mood for it.  
  
'Why are you here, Carol?' she asked bluntly.  
  
Carol looked at her. 'I came to tell you the truth', she said quietly.   
  
'You already did that, and it hurt like a bitch', Therese retorted. 'I'd rather you not do it again'.  
  
'No, that's not it', Carol shook her head. 'What I said to you before, that's not the truth. That's not how I really feel'.  
  
'Then why would you say all that stuff to me? You broke my heart, Carol. Now you're saying you made it all up? You expect me to believe you were lying?’  
  
'There was more to the story than I told you', Carol said calmly.  
  
'Well?’ Therese demanded. ‘What is it?'  
  
'Remember that night, I told you Harge and I had had a huge fight?'  
  
Therese stared at her in confusion, but only a second later she came to the realisation. Her heart sank as the pieces fell into place.  
  
'That was about me, wasn't it?' she said quietly.  
  
Carol nodded. 'He wasn't happy about me seeing someone new just as the divorce was getting finalised', she explained. 'And after what happened with Gen, he said he didn't want anyone I was dating around Rindy, and that I should be thinking of her rather than myself. He gave me a choice'.  
  
'He made you choose between me and Rindy', Therese stated, a confirmation of her understanding.  
  
Carol nodded again. 'I never brought it up that night. I thought you'd think I was weak. That I needed Harge's permission to see you or something'.  
  
Therese looked away, hurt by Carol's assumption. 'I wish you'd have a little more faith in me, Carol'.  
  
'I do have faith in you', she affirmed. 'It just took me a while to realise it'.  
  
'But you thought I'd think less of you if I knew that Harge had given you an ultimatum?'  
  
'I panicked. I never wanted to answer to him for anything, especially when it came to you. But the thought of him taking Rindy away if I kept on seeing you . . . it scared the shit out of me. So I pushed you away'.  
  
'Why didn't you just tell me? I would have understood'.  
  
'I'm so sorry, Therese', Carol said earnestly. 'It was the hardest thing, having to tell you I couldn't see you. I wanted more than anything to be with you, and I dreaded how hard it would be to move on. I thought it might be easier if I didn't tell you about Harge. Then you'd think it was all my choice. Maybe you'd hate me a little, and it would be easier for you to forget about me'.  
  
'That's not what happened', Therese retorted.   
  
'I thought I was doing the right thing. At the time, it seemed right'. She looked away, ashamed. But she'd turned towards the desk at the edge of the lounge, and it was clear she'd spotted them.  
  
 _Shit._  
  
'What are those?' Carol asked, nodding towards the desk. The surface was bathed in a warm light from the desk lamp and littered with thick papers strewn over every inch.  
  
'It's my final project', Therese answered reluctantly.  
  
Carol's face lit up with curiosity. 'Can I see?' she asked tentatively.   
  
Therese nodded.   
  
Carol got up slowly and made her way over to the desk. Therese followed her in silence, and stood by her side as they approached, leaning one hand on the wooden surface.  
  
And she watched Carol's eyes widen as she saw the prints laid out in front of her.   
  
Therese didn't look at the photographs, only at Carol. She didn't want to see them, and she didn't want to see which one Carol was looking at, which broken version of her she saw, as her eyes darted over the print she held out in the light.  
  
'Oh, Therese', she gasped. 'They're beautiful'.   
  
'Didn't Gen tell you?' Therese asked, the thought occurring to her that maybe these photographs were part of the reason why Carol came here tonight.   
  
But the older woman shook her head. 'No, she didn't'.  
  
'It's funny isn't it?' Therese smirked. 'Self-portraits'.  
  
'Your worst nightmare', Carol remembered. Then she laid them back down on the table carefully as her face fell. She turned away. 'Looking at them hurts', she confessed. 'I did this to you'.  
  
Therese shrugged awkwardly. 'When I was most vulnerable I found the most confidence', she told her, voice even. 'I guess I needed to be hurt by you'.  
  
Carol turned to her, and now, confronted, Therese had no choice but to look back at her.  
  
'Therese, I came to see if you'd take me back', Carol said, like she couldn't hold it in any longer.  
  
Therese blinked. 'What?'  
  
'If you still believe there's any future for us', she said hopefully, 'I want it'.   
  
Therese frowned, unsure, now she knew the whole story, of whether this was truly the thing she wanted to hear. 'So you're choosing me over Rindy?' she asked, disappointment leaking into her voice despite her trying to hide it.  
  
Carol shook her head. 'Harge had a change of heart'.  
  
'Why?'  
  
'It started almost two weeks ago', she began, drifting back to the couch. Therese went back to the edge of the kitchen, this time hoisting herself up to sit on the counter. 'Genevieve came over when she found out you and I were no longer speaking. Asked me what the fuck I was doing, telling me I was making a huge mistake'.  
  
Therese stared at her, dumbfounded, but Carol didn't seem to notice. Maybe for her in seemed strangely normal that Gen would try to intervene, but Therese couldn't understand it. The last time they had spoken they'd shouted at each other and Therese had stormed out. Why would Gen try to help her? _I guess she really has forgiven me_ , she thought.   
  
But she said nothing, and let Carol continue.  
  
'I didn't tell her what Harge had said. In fact, I didn't tell her much at all, I just told her to go away. But when she saw how miserable I was, she suspected it anyway. She suspected it wasn't all my choice. So, she called Abby, and the two of them worked it out. They knew I would never have let you go unless my daughter was somehow involved'.  
  
'And what happened?'  
  
'When Abby went over to Harge's last week to pick Rindy up, she confronted him. I just know that she spoke to him, I don't know exactly what she said. But later, Harge called me and apologised. He said he'd been unreasonable, and that he wouldn't threaten to keep me from seeing Rindy if I decided to start dating you'.  
  
'What did you say?’  
  
'Nothing, then. But I went over there a couple days ago and we talked about it. We really talked. I told him I was in love with you and I wanted to be with you, and I hoped he would accept it. He promised he would try. I don't expect everything to suddenly start working out between us, but right now, it feels like we understand each other better than we ever have done'.  
  
Therese smiled at the thought of the story having an optimistic ending. 'I'm glad'.  
  
'And he feels bad about making me hurt you', Carol told her. Then she sighed. 'I can't blame it all on Harge, though. It's not all his fault. Last time I had a lover in my home, I neglected my daughter. He has every right to be concerned. But none of these are excuses for the way I left it with you. I could have fought for you, and I didn't'.  
  
'Yeah, well, that probably would have made things worse', Therese mumbled.  
  
'I never even tried', Carol continued, punishing herself further. 'But I wasn't even thinking about you, and I feel awful about it. As soon as Harge threatened me with Rindy, I couldn't see any other way'.  
  
Therese looked at her, saw her head tilted downwards, looking at her lap, like she was truly lost. And Therese still couldn't figure out why.   
  
'I know, for some reason I still don't understand, you think I have no clue what Rindy means to you, and what you would do for her', she told Carol. 'But I do know. You love her more than life itself and you would give your life for her. And that's the way it should be. That's the way a mother should love her child. I never had a mother, she abandoned me. I would never want the same for Rindy, because it's the worst feeling to know the woman who gave you life doesn't care about you. Rindy needs you. And I would never ask you for anything if it meant taking you away from her. Never. I don't know why that's so difficult for you to understand'.  
  
Carol shrugged awkwardly. 'I guess I've only been around people who've wanted me to themselves. Lovers, friends, co-workers. People from my past. It was like, if I couldn't give them all of myself all of the time, it wasn't enough. I was used to people asking that of me. Part of me thought you would ask the same. It never really occurred to me that I could have you both'.  
  
'I meant what I said before', Therese assured her. 'I want all of you. That means Harge, and Rindy, and Genevieve. Your uptight rich family and your bitch of a mother'. That made Carol laugh. 'Your past made you you. So why would I want to change it?'  
  
Carol's eyes shone, this time with hope. 'And you still love me?'  
  
Therese looked at her lap, too shy to tell Carol what she really felt while they still had their eyes on each other. But that didn't mean she didn't want to tell her at all.   
  
'I'd never been in love before', she began. 'I didn't know if I'd ever find it, but then I met you. I'll never forget that night. You were wearing the suit you're wearing now. Electric blue. That's what you were. And when I met you, I finally understood, because the more time I spent with you, the more I realised I never wanted to be without you'.   
  
She'd felt Carol moving towards her as she spoke, and as she finally looked up, she was right there in front of her.  
  
'I love you, Carol', she told her.  
  
Carol lifted a hand to Therese's cheek, lightly brushing her fingertips down the side of her face, along her jawline, gently lifting her chin so there was nowhere left to look but at each other.  
  
'Don't you know I love you?' Carol whispered.  
  
And as Carol brought her lips to hers, Therese knew. As she melted into Carol's warm embrace, she knew.   
  


* * *

  
  
For a moment Therese forgot where she was, when she woke at twelve minutes past nine on that bright morning. Like the whole of the previous night had been an incredibly realistic dream that had dissolved into nothingness with the opening of her eyes, and now she was abandoned and alone in her bedroom, where golden sunlight touched every surface in long stripes because she hadn't closed the blinds properly. The only thing that convinced her otherwise was the muffled sound of the radio drifting in from the kitchen, and the unmistakable voice that hummed along with it. Therese smiled.  
  
Last night really had been like a dream. It felt that way now, and maybe it would feel like that forever, but in any case it was one Therese knew she would never forget, whatever happened between her and Carol. Last night, she knew she would forgive Carol for all the pain she caused, because they had both suffered enough and it was no longer necessary now they had their chance to make it right. Last night, she knew that Carol loved her, wanted her, mentally, physically, emotionally. She knew that Carol wanted all of her, and she wanted all of Carol, and she knew all of this when she fell asleep in Carol's arms. She'd never felt anything like it before. That's why it would be unforgettable.  
  
But sleep didn't come until the early hours of the morning. All too quickly they were overcome by their desperation for each other. Their kisses became fiercer, the pushing together of their bodies became harder, and Therese had wrapped her legs around Carol's waist as her hands started to explore beneath the older woman's shirt. When she couldn't resist any longer, she led Carol to her bedroom, pushing her down against the mattress, lips leaving a trail of hard kisses along her neck and collarbone before Carol took control, rolling her over and swinging her leg over Therese’s waist, pinning her down. Not long after, Therese was shaking under crumpled bedsheets, back arched, breathing Carol's name as she came on her tongue.  
  
And the sex was different than any she'd ever had before, because she was in love with Carol, and Carol was in love with her. She was comfortable being vulnerable, and at the same time she felt completely in control.It was the best she'd ever had. She still felt the heat in her core, just thinking about it.  
  
Carol came in with a mug of coffee in each hand, dressed only in underwear and an oversized shirt she must have taken from Therese's closet. She smiled when she saw Therese, awake and watching her, and came over to the bedside table to set down the hot drinks.  
  
'Hi', she said softly, sitting down on the bed and crossing her legs.  
  
'Hi', Therese said. She was shy, suddenly, now she was still here, naked with only a thin bedsheet to cover herself, and Carol was looking at her. But Carol just stroked her fingers gently through Therese's dark hair, and she relaxed under the comforting sensation and the loving gaze Carol watched her with.  
  
'You're up early', Carol said.  
  
Therese smiled. 'Says the woman who's already gotten up to make coffee'.  
  
Carol shrugged. 'Force of habit. Forget sleep, I only run on coffee in the week'.  
  
'You have to go to work, don't you', Therese said sulkily.  
  
'I texted Abby already, got her to reschedule everything. I'll be busier for the rest of the week, but at least we have today'.  
  
'Does that mean you'll stay?' Therese asked hopefully.   
  
Carol smiled. 'Yes, angel. I'm not going anywhere'.

 


	14. No Endings, Just Beginnings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A slightly longer wait than I'd hoped (sorry) but I'm back, and happy to share with you the final chapter of this timeline. The next chapter I post will be an epilogue. So time now to say a couple of goodbyes. Thanks for sticking with me.

'Ugh, I don't wanna go', Therese groaned, putting her head in her hands.  
  
'Don't go then', Dannie replied distractedly. She watched him from her seat at the kitchen counter as he scuttled around the apartment, shoving various belongings into a large rucksack. He and Kristen were spending their first weekend away together. They were driving up to Vermont so Dannie could meet her family. It was a big step for them, one Therese had been winding him up about all week.  
  
She sighed. 'But I can't just not show up now'.  
  
'Go, then'.  
  
Therese rolled her eyes. 'You're not being very helpful'.  
  
'How am I supposed to be?' he shot back.  
  
She sighed, and rested her head in her hand. 'Shouldn't I be worried that I'm keeping secrets from Carol this early in our relationship?' she wondered aloud.  
  
'No! That's it', he announced loudly as he pulled the zipper closed on his rucksack. 'I'm done here!'  
  
'No, don't go!' Therese protested, laughing.  
  
'I am! I'm going to Kristen's where I can have a normal conversation that doesn't involve you or your lesbian crises'.   
  
'I know, I'm the worst', she apologised.  
  
'Yes, you are', he remarked, chuckling. 'I thought it would be over now you and Carol are together'.  
  
'It's never over'.  
  
'That's what I was afraid of'.  
  
'Don't worry', she assured him. 'I absolutely give you permission to come crying to me when your honeymoon period is over with Kristen'.  
  
'We're doing just fine, thanks', he said defensively.  
  
Therese shrugged. 'It's bound to come at some point. You two aren't that perfect, no one is'.  
  
Dannie slung his bag over one shoulder, and turned to face her before he reached the door. 'But what if I _don't_ need you?'  
  
She smiled at him. 'Then I'll be here anyway'.  
  
He nodded slowly, like a realisation was hitting him. 'I'll keep that in mind'. He smiled. 'See you later, Tee'.  
  
'Have fun. And don't screw it up'.   
  
'I'll try not to'.  
  
As he left, and silence fell across the room, Therese recognised the same realisation she'd just seen in Dannie in herself. If things went well enough, soon he would be moving in with Kristen, or she would be moving in with him, while Therese would leave for Carol's. She couldn't help but feel like their time was almost up. Their parting of ways would be the end of an era, having lived and struggled together through the endless college years of classes and working every hour they could until they saved enough to take some time off to complete their postgraduate studies. It had been a long road.  
  
Of course it wasn't really the end, just the start of a new chapter in their lives, two separate paths that had run parallel for six years and now would take their own directions, intertwining and crossing along the way. Therese was sure of that. She looked at Dannie and saw her brother in every way but by blood. Those paths could never stray far from each other.  
  


* * *

  
  
Genevieve was already there. Therese saw her before she entered the small cafe, where she was sitting alone at a table for two by the window, dressed in a white lace dress and a black blazer that looked way too heavy for a day so hot, even with the sleeves neatly rolled up to her elbows. As she opened the door, a bell chimed to welcome her inside, and Gen's eyes flickered to her from their scanning of the street outside. Therese wondered if she'd turned so abruptly to see every person who'd walked through the door, every time the light tinkle of the bell rang out through the cafe, thinking it might be her. She knew she would have done the same if she were the one sat alone at the table. She would have been shaking with nerves, shifting in discomfort.   
  
But Genevieve looked unaffected as Therese approached and clumsily pulled out the chair across from her, not flinching as it made an uncomfortable screech against the floor. The younger woman felt those ice-cold blue eyes watching her every move as she sat down, and finally looked up into them.   
  
'Hi', she said finally.   
  
'Hi', Gen replied.  
  
'How long have you been here?' Therese asked, eyeing the two latte glasses on the table as she kicked her bag under her chair; one empty and pushed to the side, a ring of coffee coloured foam around the top, and the other in front of her, half drank. Both marked by a bright red lipstick stain at the rim.    
  
'Not too long', she replied distractedly, her eyes already having flickered back towards the window, watching the world pass by through the glass. 'I was just thinking'.  
  
'Listen, Gen, before you say anything', Therese began, and Gen looked back at her, raven hair falling across her shoulder as she turned her head. 'I just wanted to apologise again for the things I said before. I was just angry, I didn't mean it. I don't know if you read the letter because you never let me know but I hope you did, because I meant everything I wrote to you. I do want to be friends, and I'll really try because I'll most likely be having classes with you again next year so we'll still be seeing each other a lot'.  
  
Gen chuckled, and shook her head. 'You won't have to do that'.  
  
'But I want to', Therese assured her. 'I really want us all to get along-'  
  
'No, I mean, you won't be seeing me around campus next year', Gen interrupted. 'This is my last semester at NYU'.  
  
Therese's eyes widened in shock. 'You're leaving?'  
  
'Yes', Gen replied simply.  
  
'You're moving away?'  
  
'God, no. I could never leave this city. I'm going to teach at Columbia'.  
  
'Oh', Therese said. All that finality and all she was doing was moving twenty minutes further up the river? She didn't understand why. Gen loved NYU. But, then again, Therese knew that Gen loved change more than anything, and rarely stayed in a job for more than a few years at a time.   
  
'What is it about NYU, then?' she asked.  
  
'I had a falling out with the head of the art school', Gen said dismissively.  
  
'What happened?' Therese pressed.  
  
'Seems like somebody accused me of favouritism, and he wasn't too happy about it. Said it was my last straw in a string of similar offences'.  
  
'Oh', Therese said again, a wave of guilt washing over her and a heaviness settling on her shoulders. _This is my fault. I’ve just gotten Gen fired._  
  
'Who was it?' Therese asked cautiously. Truthfully, she had no idea who had sold them out, and she wondered how much they knew, how much they had shared with the head of the art school.  
  
Gen shrugged. 'I don't know. Could be anyone'.  
  
'What did they say?'  
  
'Well, they didn't tell him we were having sex, if that's what you mean', Gen said abruptly.  
  
Therese cringed, and Gen smirked at her obvious embarrassment.  
  
'Poor baby', she pouted. 'You don't like to remember you belonged to anyone but Carol'.  
  
Therese shifted uncomfortably. Gen took a sip of her latte, watching her over the rim of the glass as she lifted it to her mouth.  
  
'You didn't tell her you were coming here, did you?' Gen observed as she set the glass back down, the tip of her tongue darting out to catch a stray drop of coffee from her bottom lip.  
  
'Why do you say that?' Therese asked, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible.  
  
The older woman chuckled. 'I could see you squirming if I were sitting across the street. Or are you just that uncomfortable seeing me?'  
  
'Both', Therese decided.  
  
Gen smirked. 'Relax. I already told Carol I was meeting you'.  
  
_Of course she had_. Why did Therese keep forgetting? Carol knew about the two of them, but clearly she wasn't bothered by it, not now she knew for sure it was over. It seemed she'd already moved on.

 Now it was time for Therese and Gen to do the same.  
  
She sighed. 'I'm gonna have to get used to this, aren't I?'  
  
'Would you rather have told her yourself?'  
  
'No'.  
  
'Then there you go. I'm doing you a favour'.  
  
Therese rolled her eyes. 'Whatever'.  
  
Gen watched her for a moment, like she was about to say something. Therese waited.  
  
'Does it bother you?' Gen asked tentatively.  
  
'What?'  
  
'That you can't just get rid of me out of your life. That you still have to see me because of Carol'.   
  
'No', Therese told her honestly. 'I think we can be friends. It just might take a while to get used to the idea'.  
  
Gen sighed. 'Yeah. Being around you is really fucking awkward', she said drily.  
  
Therese laughed. Then she turned serious again. 'I know you want to make things right with me, though. You went to speak to Carol, after she told me she couldn't be with me. Why?'  
  
Gen looked away. 'Because it would make you both so happy, if things worked out'. She mumbled it almost, and Therese realised it was her refusal to take credit for what she'd done. She was humble at the strangest of times.  
  
'It was really cool of you to do that', Therese said, regardless. 'So, thanks'.  
  
'Any time', Gen replied, and they smiled at each other. Awkward though it was, it was a sign of understanding. A truce of sorts.  
  
Gen snapped out of it first. 'Now, I'm going to go, before this conversation can get any more painful. But we can work on it, right? Despite the shitty way I treated you, I really did like having you around'. She looked down at her lap regretfully. 'I'm sorry I never showed it'.  
  
'I thought I hated you once', Therese said abruptly.  
  
'I wouldn't be surprised if you did'.  
  
Therese shook her head. 'I don't'.  
  
A small smile crossed Gen's lips, the realest of her smiles, the kind she only showed when she was genuinely moved by something. 'I'm glad to hear it', she said softly.   
  
Then she swung her legs to the side of her chair and got up, taking the black Prada bag from the back of the chair and hanging it delicately on her shoulder by its long strap. 'Goodbye, Therese'.  
  
Therese smiled. 'I'll see you soon'.  
  
Gen nodded, her face still bright with her smile, her real smile, and like that, she was leaving. Therese twisted herself in her chair so she could look behind her, and she watched Gen go. The picture of sophistication, with the gracefulness of her walk, her smart outfit and the way the red soles of her Louboutin high heels matched her nails and her lips. She still held herself with that same polished elegance, still radiated confidence. She was still sharp as a razor, and still strikingly beautiful, but stripped of that shroud of mystery that used to cloak her. All that surrounded her was clear and transparent and Therese could see right through to her. She liked her much better that way.  
  
Genevieve would always have a piece of her heart, like anyone she'd ever slept with. Even Richard had taken a piece with him. But they were gone, torn from her insides, and she gladly waved goodbye to them. They wouldn't be missed, because the rest of her heart was alive and beating and it was Carol it beat for, Carol who owned her whole heart.  
  
It was Carol she loved, and Carol she would always love.

 

* * *

  
  
Therese left after Gen did. There was no point in staying alone at the café, but she did take the longest route home, drifting along in the general direction of her apartment but often taking a different street, going back on herself or wandering in circles. It was a beautiful day, and the noise of the city never sounded so good as when she felt completely content, like whatever creases in her life had been ironed out and she was free to enjoy the moment. That's what it was like, walking back. She was optimistic, and she wasn't quite ready to go home.  
  
But she came back to her apartment eventually, and she spent the rest of the afternoon waiting for eight o'clock, when Carol would come by after work to pick her up. She'd intended to start looking online for summer jobs, whether waitressing or bartending or something like that, but it was hard when the hours crawled by so slowly and all she could think about was how every passing minute brought her closer to Carol.  
  
She was fastening her tiny silver hoop earrings when she finally heard the knock at the door.  
  
'Come in', she shouted, and was met by the sound of the front door opening in response. She checked her outfit in the full-length mirror one last time; denim shorts, oversized Runaways shirt and white converse sneakers. Chocolate brown hair in its natural waves and no make-up except for a thin layer of mascara along her eyelashes. She grabbed her bag from her bed and went out in the kitchen.  
  
Carol was standing by the doorway, dressed in light blue jeans and a pale pink button up shirt, with silver-rimmed aviator sunglasses nestled in the golden waves atop her head. Her whole face lit up when she saw Therese, a smile crossing her lips.  
  
'Hi', Therese said, almost shy when she saw the way that Carol looked at her. She felt it was more than she deserved.  
  
They took the elevator to the ground floor, though it was already occupied by two neighbours Therese didn't recognise. It was clear they didn't know each other either, and so the four of them stood in silence. Therese kept sneaking looks at Carol, and she knew Carol was doing the same to her. By the time they reached the bottom of the building, they were stifling giggles.  
  
As they walked out into the street, which was painted with streaks of orange from the gradually lowering sun behind them, Carol took Therese's hand in hers, and Therese watched the joining of their shadows on the sidewalk in front of them. She couldn't help smiling at the sight. And she still felt Carol's eyes on her, burning into her skin like hot iron.  
  
'Why do you keep looking at me like that?' Therese giggled.  
  
'You're so gorgeous, I can't help myself', Carol replied, releasing her hand to put her arm around Therese's shoulders, pulling her closer to her as they walked. Their shadows melted into one.  
  
'Ugh, whatever', Therese brushed off the compliment.  
  
'Hey, it’s true!' Carol laughed, squeezing her shoulder, before dropping her arm and interlacing her fingers with Therese's again.  
  
'Well, thank you', Therese responded sincerely.  
  
In the moment of quiet between them, she felt the details of the earlier events of the day stirring in her mind, and she knew she had to say something about it. Carol knew already, but it wasn't right for Therese to just leave it.  
  
'I saw Genevieve today', she told Carol.  
  
'I know', Carol replied simply.  
  
Therese looked at her. 'I hope you didn't think I wasn't gonna tell you, 'cause I was'.  
  
'I know you were', Carol nodded.  
  
'I'm sorry I didn't tell you before, I just knew it was gonna be really awkward, and I was freaking out-'  
  
'Therese, relax', Carol stopped her. 'It's not important'.  
  
'Really?'  
  
'Sure. Why should I care if you're going to see her or not? You don't have to ask my permission'. Then Carol poked her in the ribs teasingly. 'Unless I should be worried . . .'  
  
Therese laughed. 'You definitely shouldn't', she said, shaking her head.  
  
'Good. Then it's not important'.  
  
'You're not the jealous type, huh'.  
  
'I never said that. I just trust you'.  
  
Therese breathed out a sigh of relief she hoped wasn't too obvious. 'Okay'.  
  
As they fell into a comfortable silence once again, hands still joined and swinging between the two of them, Therese realised they were approaching the end of the street, and she didn't know which way to turn. They were drifting away from the neighbourhood with no real destination. Carol didn't seem to notice, didn't slow up as they approached the roadside. She just carried on walking. And then they were stood at the crossing, waiting for the sign to walk.  
  
'Are we going somewhere?' Therese asked.  
  
'I'll let you decide'.  
  
'I'm deciding?'  
  
Carol nodded. 'We can go eat, see a movie. Whatever you want'.  
  
Therese laughed, warmed by the gesture but seeing no reason to take her up on the offer. She knew Carol worked long hours, and nights in the week were usually uneventful, spent at home. Weekends were for shows and restaurants and parties. It occurred to Therese, though not for the first time, that being with Carol would mean change in more ways than just being in a relationship. Carol was older. She had a child and established groups of friends and colleagues. She had a busy, successful career that often required her to travel. Therese had worried about how she would fit into Carol's lifestyle until she looked at her own life and realised it wasn't that much different at all. She put her energy into school, like Carol did with her work, and outside of that, she enjoyed a relatively quiet life. She'd always felt older in that way; she'd never lived like a college student, never been interested in their parties or all-nighters. She didn't have the time or money anyway.  
  
'You know we don't have to do any of that stuff, right?' she said. 'I'm happy just to sit on the couch and open a bottle of wine'.  
  
'Really?'  
  
Therese nodded. 'I don't care what we do. I just wanna hang out with you'.   
  
'Good, because I came straight from work, I'm exhausted', Carol confessed.  
  
'I knew it', Therese smiled.  
  
'You really don't mind?'  
  
'Of course not', she assured her, leaning in closer to Carol, breathing in the sweet scent of her perfume, feeling the tickle of golden hair on her cheek. 'A night in sounds perfect'.  
  
She pulled away again, and she found Carol looking at her. As Therese looked back, she felt the steady beat of her heart quicken, because Carol was smiling at her, and in that smile she saw the evening ahead of them, the night they'd spend together, the many nights that followed. The busy days and the comfort of knowing the other would be there at the end of it. The mornings they'd wake up next to each other.  
  
And that was her place. Next to Carol. That was where she belonged.  
  
'Okay then', Carol said. 'Let's go home'.

 


	15. Epilogue: Ten Years Later

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My dear readers, this is the final chapter of Electric Blue, set ten years after we last saw our heroines. Writing this fic has brought me so much joy over these past months, and so have your kind comments on every chapter. Lots of love to all of you. I hope you enjoy the ending.

The third pair of shoes were the best. Third time lucky, that's what Rindy said. They were open, with black straps across the toes and ankles, soft like velvet, and block heels, easier to walk in than the thin stilettos she'd picked out before. And they'd go perfectly with her pale blue skater dress.  
  
'They're lovely', Therese complimented. 'But can you dance in them?'  
  
Rindy twirled on the spot, her long, dark blonde hair trailing behind her. She wobbled a little as she put one foot back down, and Therese stuck out her arm in case she needed to grab it and steady herself. Both of them laughed.  
  
'Yep', she answered confidently, despite the near mishap.  
  
Therese raised an eyebrow. 'You sure about that?'  
  
'I'll be fine', she waved a hand dismissively. Then she went back down the aisle and perched on the edge of the stool by the mirror to take off the shoes.  
  
 _Of course she’ll be fine_. That's what Therese admired most about Rindy. That laid-back attitude. Nothing fazed her, and she took everything well in her stride. Carol always said she'd got it from Therese, but Therese thought it was all Rindy. If anything, she looked up to Rindy as much as Rindy looked up to her.  
  
The teenager wasn't worried in the slightest that today was the day of her high school prom, and she was still without shoes and a purse. Despite all her friends having had their outfits prepared for months, Rindy was perfectly satisfied to leave it until the last minute. She was sure she would find something. And if she didn't, then she would make do with something she already had.  
  
They were lucky, though. Therese had brought her out to Brooklyn and they scoured the stores, hoping for the best, and within an hour of arriving, they'd found the perfect purse and shoes for her.   
  
With a little time still left before Rindy's hair appointment, they headed for their favourite diner, a classically retro place complete with red leather booth seating and black and white chequered floors. Rindy ordered a cookies and cream milkshake, as always, and Therese had a simple black coffee. As they took their seats in a booth by the window, Therese's phone vibrated in her pocket. She took it out and scanned the message that lit up the screen. It was from Harge.  
  
'That's your dad', she told Rindy. 'He's meeting us at the salon. He'll wait with you while you get your hair cut and then he's taking you to lunch. I'll come to pick you up on the way back from the studio'.  
  
Rindy simply nodded, disinterested.   
  
'What?' Therese frowned.  
  
' _She’s_ coming too', Rindy said sulkily.   
  
Therese sighed.   
  
 _She_. That was Joanna, Harge's fiancée. They'd been together almost two years and Rindy deeply disliked her. She hadn't told Therese or Carol why at first, but they'd soon learned the reason. Joanna didn't approve of the fact that Rindy's mother had a female partner, and Rindy, who had loved Therese like another parent for most of her life, was deeply hurt by her soon-to-be stepmother's rejection. Though it made Carol prouder than she'd ever been of her daughter, it was getting exhausting for Rindy to constantly have to defend her against Joanna, and she resented her father for keeping silent on the matter.  
  
It had been confusing for all of them, admittedly, that Harge would readily accept a woman with such views, especially since Therese and Carol got along so well with him. After Harge and Carol had finally reached an agreement over Rindy, he decided he would like to get to know Therese better, considering she would be spending a lot of time with his daughter. Therese had been so shy and nervous at first. She was sure she looked like a complete idiot in front of him, and he clearly wondered what Carol saw in her. But, after a while, they grew to accept one another, and soon the three of them became friends. When it came to Rindy, they were able to do everything together, whether it was attending parent-teacher conferences or organising birthday parties. They had a successful arangement, but more than that, Therese genuinely liked Harge. He was an excellent father to Rindy, and she truly appreciated that. It was so important to her that they get along as a family unit, after having never had that herself. She wanted that for Rindy.  
  
All that had changed when Joanna came into the picture. They saw little of each other now, no doubt because Joanna didn't want to be around Therese and Carol. To Harge, they were still welcome. But Therese couldn't ignore the look of disgust on Joanna's face when Therese and Carol showed up along with Abby and Ingrid, just married themselves, to the engagement party. They clearly weren't welcome.   
  
And Rindy hated Joanna for that, too. Not just because of the disdainful things she said about her mother, but because she'd torn their little family apart. For most of her life, Rindy had three parents who loved her unconditionally, and who cared deeply for each other as well. Now Harge and Carol barely even spoke any more.  
  
But Harge loved Joanna, that was clear to see. And so Rindy was punishing him by staying at Therese and Carol's place most nights of the week. Therese could see it was hurting Harge, but in truth, she didn't blame Rindy for wanting to get back at him. Maybe that was the only way he'd realise how unhappy she was about the whole situation. It was likely that that wouldn't change anything, but at least then her voice would be heard.  
  
Still, Therese tried to defend Harge in whatever way she could. Not because she disagreed with Rindy, but because she'd hate to see them fall out when they'd always been so close.  
  
'Just be good, okay?' Therese pleaded.  
  
'Why should I?' Rindy protested. 'She's just invited herself along on our plans, yet again. Dad knows how I feel about her, but he never does anything to stop it'.  
  
She shrunk back into her chair, looking out of the window to avoid Therese's sympathetic gaze.   
  
It hurt Therese to see her like this. Here was the girl who was always so happy and full of life, and lately she'd been frowning more than smiling, looking down at the ground more than looking up ahead. Her relationship with Harge was truly deteriorating. He cared, of course, but now Joanna was in the picture, it was as if he'd stopped noticing Rindy. He wasn't paying as much attention to her as he used to, and it was hitting her harder than she would admit.  
  
Only then did it occur to Therese that this had already happened before, when she herself first entered the picture, first entered Rindy's life. It was the same then: a stranger becoming the lover of one of her parents, and therefore inserting themselves into Rindy's family whether she liked it or not.   
  
She wondered how it had all seemed to Rindy back then. They'd never really spoken about it before.  
  
'Do you remember when I started dating your mom?' she asked.  
  
'Yeah'.  
  
'How did you feel then?'  
  
Rindy frowned. 'How do you mean?'  
  
'Did I ever make you feel pushed out? Did you feel like I was taking your mom's attention away from you?'  
  
'No', she replied simply, like this was an obvious answer.  
  
'Really?'  
  
'Well, that was different', Rindy explained. 'We didn't live together, so it didn't affect me as much in that way. If anything, my relationship with Mom was better after you were with her, 'cause that was the time I started seeing her more'.  
  
Therese nodded in understanding. 'Yeah. I suppose'.  
  
'And, besides, I always liked you. So maybe I would have forgiven you anyway'.   
  
Rindy smiled on the last sentence. Therese did too.  
  
'What do you see happening with you and Harge and Joanna?' Therese asked. 'You think you could ever learn to get along?'  
  
Rindy shook her head. 'I've given her enough chances. She's disrespectful to my family and that's something I take very seriously'.  
  
As she looked at the teenager, Therese couldn't help but feel a swell of pride at her words. Though she hated to see her going through this difficult situation, at the same time Rindy was defending Therese and Carol's relationship. It meant she saw that they were in love, saw that they were her family. It meant that Therese was accepted. She had always known it, because Rindy had always loved and accepted her. But every time she said something like that, it was like a reaffirmation. And every time, it was a gift, one which Therese would never take for granted.  
  
She rested her head in her hand. 'I know you're not happy there, with them. But you've stood your ground without starting any fights, at least as of yet. I'm so proud of how you're handling it, Rindy'.  
  
Rindy took a sip of her milkshake, looking up at her with those big blue eyes, like her mother's. 'What do you think I should do?'  
  
'I don't know', Therese admitted. 'Whatever you think is right. Make a scene if you feel like you need to. Set fire to her closet'. Rindy raised an eyebrow, and Therese quickly regressed. 'Don't tell your Mom I said that'.  
  
'I already know what you think’, Rindy confessed, like what she had asked before was simply a test. ‘I hear you and Mom talking about it all the time'.  
  
Therese searched her face to find an innocent expression, but a knowing glint in her eye. She didn't know why she was so surprised. Rindy was always so observant. She knew everything she wasn't supposed to. She always had, from the very first day Therese met her.  
  
'Then I guess you will have heard us talking about you moving in with us'.  
  
Rindy nodded.   
  
Therese sighed. 'Why didn't you say anything sooner?'  
  
'I didn't think it would really happen', Rindy shrugged.  
  
'Would it be something you would want?'  
  
She nodded again. 'Do you think my dad would go for it?'  
  
'I don't know', Therese admitted.  
  
Rindy looked down at the floor. 'What about you?'  
  
'What about me?'  
  
'It's always just been you and my mom. Why would you want me to live with you?'  
  
Therese smiled, endeared by Rindy's sudden shyness, her fear that maybe she was intruding somewhere. But the three of them were a family. It meant a lot to Carol, and it meant a lot to Therese too.   
  
'You basically do already', Therese said. 'And we love having you with us, you know that. Besides, you're going to college soon, so I can kick you out'.  
  
Rindy smiled then, but it was a smile of appreciation rather than humour, like she was truly thankful. Therese still wished she knew she had nothing to be thankful for. Nothing Therese ever did for Rindy was a favour. She did it because it was natural for her to do.   
  
'We haven't spoken to your dad yet, so don't tell Carol you know about any of this, okay?' Therese rolled her eyes at her own words. 'God, I've got to stop saying that. She's gonna think we're conspiring'.  
  
Rindy laughed. 'Well, we are, aren't we?'  
  
'We do enough of it', Therese agreed. She reached her hand out across the table, laying it on top of Rindy's. 'Just try to be good to your dad. It will get easier. You just gotta keep trying'.  
  
'I will', Rindy promised.  
  
Therese squeezed her hand, then released it and drew her own back. 'Besides, he's paying for your prom outfit, and your hair, and your nails . . .'  
  
'Maybe he'll even pay for my graduation trip with Sasha and Rosanna'.  
  
'Don't push your luck'.  
  
Rindy smiled mischievously, taking another sip of milkshake. 'I was just kidding'.  
  
Leaving the café, they ran into a friend of Rindy's from school. Rindy wanted to stop and chat, so Therese hung back a little. She checked her brown leather watch, squinting as the sunlight gleamed off its smooth surface. They would be a little late for meeting Harge, but Therese let her have the moment anyway.   
  
Behind dark sunglasses, her eyes flickered across every part of the Brooklyn street, painted in gold from the midday sun. She was within earshot of Rindy and her friend's conversation, but she tried to tune out, not wanting to eavesdrop. She didn't know the boy's name, but from the animated way they talked, and the way they kept smiling and laughing with each other, it was clear that they were close.  
  
Therese tilted her face upwards and let the warmth wash over her face. She closed her eyes. Summer had finally come to the city, after a spring of non-stop rain and cold winds that whipped her hair into a messy tangle, even if she tied it up. Fortunately, a spontaneous trip to the sunny south of Spain had cured her of the misery she’d descended into during the bleak weather. She smiled as she remembered her time there. Walks along the sand as the sea washed over her bare feet, cool night-times eating fresh seafood in seaside restaurants, drinking sweet sangria. How thoughtful of Carol to surprise her like that.  
  
She opened her eyes, and she was brought back to the present with the sharp sound of a taxi honking its horn, and the angry shouts of a pedestrian, who appeared to have walked straight out in front of the vehicle but was blaming the driver anyway. Yes, this was New York. Even after a whole life here, she still couldn't even imagine living anywhere else. This was home, and she'd never fall out of love with it.  
  
Therese drummed her fingers against the strap of her handbag impatiently. _Come on Rindy, we’re already late_ , she thought. She looked over at the teenager, meaning to catch her eye. She did, eventually, and Rindy seemed to understand.  
  
'Sorry, I have to go, my mom's waiting for me', Rindy said apologetically. 'But I'll see you tonight!'  
  
'Yeah, sure, I'll see you!' the boy replied, and the two hugged before Rindy came hurrying over to Therese, who was standing frozen on the sidewalk.  
  
'What?' Rindy frowned, noticing Therese's bewildered expression.  
  
'You just called me your mom', Therese murmured, more thinking aloud than actually addressing Rindy.  
  
'That's how I always talk about you to my friends', Rindy shrugged.  
  
'You do?'  
  
'Yeah'. Rindy raised an eyebrow, failing to see how something she thought was so ordinary could be such a huge moment for Therese. 'Would you rather me not do it?' she asked, concerned.  
  
'No', Therese assured her. 'It’s nice'.  
  
'Good', Rindy said, starting to walk past her, in the direction of the salon. 'Now can you stop being weird so we can go?'  
  
'Yeah, sorry', Therese apologised, shaking her head to snap herself out of the strange, unprecedented daze she'd just found herself in. She followed as Rindy led the way, unable to keep the proud smile from creeping across her lips.  
  


* * *

 

'Mom! We're home!' Rindy called into the seemingly empty apartment. Therese followed her in and closed the door behind them.  
  
They still lived in the same apartment on the Upper East Side. Over Carol's eleven years in the place, and Therese's nine and a half, not much had changed. The décor had remained mostly the same throughout the lounge and kitchen, Carol's office, and their bedroom. The room which had once been a spare bedroom had become Therese's office. But Rindy's bedroom was where the most changes had happened. They redecorated it every few years to match Rindy's changing tastes as she grew older, though the same corkboard always hung in the same place, with the same old polaroids of family and friends pinned up.  
  
Carol appeared just a moment later, emerging from her office. Therese had left her this morning in her pyjamas, sipping coffee in their bed, but now she wore a light yellow button-up shirt and black jeans, rolled up at the bottom, with her blonde waves swept up into a messy ponytail.  
  
'Hey, how was lunch?' she asked Rindy.  
  
'Awful', Rindy replied harshly, dumping her bags onto the kitchen counter and storming past Carol. 'Joanna was being a total bitch. Again. Honestly, I don't know how much more of this I can take'.  
  
Her voice trailed off as she disappeared down the hall and into her bedroom. They watched her go, helplessly.  
  
Carol turned to Therese. 'Hi, angel', she smiled, giving her a chaste kiss.  
  
'Hi', Therese smiled in return. 'How was your day?'  
  
'Boring', Carol replied. 'Did Rindy get everything she needed?'  
  
'Yeah, she got her shoes and purse. Things really didn't go well at lunch. She complained the whole way home'.  
  
Carol waved a hand dissmissively. 'Well, we'll worry about that later. We gotta get her excited, it’s prom day! She can complain all she wants tomorrow'.  
  
'Yeah, you're right', Therese agreed. 'Let's forget about it for today'.  
  
She turned to look out of the window, but her eyes fell upon a huge bunch of flowers at the far side of the counter, all reds and yellows and greens.  
  
'Where did they come from?'  
  
Carol followed her eyeline. 'Oh, yes!' she exclaimed, remembering something she had forgotten. 'Rindy!' she called down the hall.  
  
'Yeah?' came the distant reply.  
  
'Something here for you'.  
  
A few moments later, Rindy came wandering back out of her room, curious.  
  
'What?' she asked.   
  
Carol gestured towards the flowers, and as Rindy saw them, her face lit up.  
  
'Oh, they're lovely!' she said, floating over to where they sat on the counter in a delicate glass vase. Rindy loved flowers. Strange for a girl who grew up in the concrete jungle of Manhattan and rarely came into contact with nature.   
  
She flipped open the tiny card that hung from the side of the vase.  
  
'They're from Gen', she announced, admiring the flowers, running her fingers over their velvety petals. 'I'll call her tomorrow to say thank you'.  
  
Therese went over to read the card.

 

_Rindy –_

_Thinking of you today and how proud I am of everything you have and will continue to achieve. Enjoy your prom night._

_Gen x_

  
  
'That's nice', she smiled.   
  
'Yeah', Rindy agreed. She picked up the vase carefully. 'I'm gonna go put these in my room'.  
  
Therese watched her take them. From her point of view, with Rindy's back to her and the vase hidden from sight in her arms, she saw colourful flowers growing from the top of Rindy's hair. They were a lovely gift, it was true. Sweet of Gen to remember her prom day, busy as she was these days.  
  
 _Genevieve._ Therese had doubted they could ever truly be friends, but she'd been proven wrong. Gen had become a constant in her and Carol's life, one of the few people who was truly supportive of them right from the beginning. Not only of their relationship, but everything they did for their careers too. Therese would always be grateful for that. Gen even became good friends with Rindy after Rindy discovered a love for painting during her middle school years, a love Gen was only too keen to nurture.  
  
Four years ago, Genevieve opened an art gallery in London. It was a dream of hers, not that many people knew it, and when an opportunity opened up in her hometown, she knew she had to take it, even though she was reluctant to leave her beloved New York. These days, she split her year evenly, spending summer and fall in London, coming back to New York just before Christmas and staying through to the end of spring. Though she found it strange to admit, Therese missed having her around when she was in London.  
  
As for Therese, she'd been developing her own business for the past seven years. She'd opened a studio in Williamsburg and spent her days photographing the citizens of New York. She couldn't be happier with how far she'd come.  
  
When she finished school, she of course enjoyed the benefits of having those closest to her be successful artists. She was inundated with offers from Carol, to travel with her and assist her on whatever job she was working, from Gen, to accompany her to her endless gallery shows and parties where she could meet the most influential people of the New York and London art scenes, and from Abby, who, being Carol's personal assistant, seemed to have the address and phone number of every successful photographer in the city. She had declined these offers at first, believing others would look down on her for taking advantage of Carol and her friends, and for being too complacent to find work on her own. She'd eventually managed to push these thoughts aside, acknowledging that these experiences would be beneficial to her personally, not just to her career. But after working a few jobs, she felt uninspired, like this wasn't what she wanted for her future in photography. So she walked away.   
  
In the end, the perfect supermodels and millionaire actresses never interested her as much as ordinary people did. People like her old neighbours and kids she used to hang out with, the people who first sparked her love of photography. People like her. Meeting the ordinary citizens of New York City was always more captivating than meeting celebrities. Each one had a story to tell, a story that Therese tried to incorporate into her portraits of them in whatever way she could. It was probably the reason why the studio was so successful. Never once did she simply sit a person or a group of people in front of a blank white screen and have them smile into the camera. To be photographed by Therese Belivet was to be the subject in a truly beautiful work of art.  
  
Of course, being Carol Aird's girlfriend certainly got her noticed, but only in the way that people were shocked by how different they were in terms of their work. Therese had never taken Carol's ability to help her career for granted, but she had acknowledged early on that the flashy world of celebrity wasn't for her. So she came back to the bottom and worked from the ground up, working whatever temporary gigs she could get until she saved enough for the deposit on the studio. Since she opened it, every birthday and Christmas she had been gifted obscene amounts of money from friends, though she tried to protest, and it wasn't long before she'd bought the place outright.   
  
It had been a long journey, but after the initial chaos, she'd settled into a rhythm that worked for her. She worried, at the beginning, about how she would balance starting a business and family life, but Carol had always stood by her. She always understood when Therese needed to cancel their plans, promising to make it up to her later.   
  
She made sure she always did.  
  


* * *

 

_Snap._

  
Therese lowered her camera slightly, watching over the top of it, wanting to witness for real the scene in front of her. Rindy, in her pale blue dress, fitted to her slender figure and spilling out at the waist into a knee-length skirt, the kind that floated behind her when she moved, revealing long, slim legs and her new black high heels, adding an extra couple of inches to her already tall frame. Even without her heels she was the same height as Carol now, around five foot eight, and a little taller than Therese. Her hair had been left natural, cascading down her back in dark blonde waves, and her wide blue eyes were lined with a subtle flick of eyeliner and a layer of mascara. She never wore much make-up, not even tonight. She was just naturally beautiful.  
  
Carol stood next to her. She'd changed her shirt to a crisp white one and let her hair down. She said she wanted to make herself more 'presentable'. Therese thought she looked presentable with no make-up and wet hair, wrapped in a towel. To her, it was physically impossible for Carol to look anything less than perfect.  
  
They each had an arm around the other's waist, smiling for the photo. Carol had tears of pride in her eyes, from the moment Rindy stepped out of her room and even now, because, as she'd confessed to Therese, she never thought she would be here for this day, that she would be the one to see Rindy off to prom.   
  
Rindy knew everything about Carol's past, her affair with Gen and the fact that she was mostly responsible for the breakdown of their family. She told her as soon as she thought she was old enough, willing to risk the possibility that Rindy would never forgive her, because she knew she had a right to know. Rindy was a little taken aback at first, but as old buried memories seemingly crawled their way back to the surface, she began to remember parts from that period where Carol was almost a stranger to her. But Carol was honest and never shied away from any question Rindy needed answering, and it was that openness that got them through. They talked it out, and, ultimately, Rindy forgave her mother. Their relationship was even stronger afterwards, feeling as though they had confronted old demons that were holding them back.   
  
Abby had been over already, stopping by on her way home to take an endless number of photographs. She almost cried when she saw Rindy all dressed up, running over and wrapping her arms around her, the proudest godmother in America. Abby and Ingrid had never had children of their own, though they'd been thinking a lot about adopting or fostering in the future. What with the both of them being so busy with work, any spare time they got they wanted to spend wrapped up in each other. But, for Abby, Rindy had been the daughter she never had, her best friend since the day she was born. And it remained so to this day.  
  
Now all that was left was the wait for Rindy's date to arrive. He was stopping by the apartment to pick her up, and meet Carol and Therese, and then his father was driving them to school. They hadn't met the boy yet, but he and Rindy had been friends for a long time, and it had been clear for the past few months that they liked each other as more than that. Rindy was overjoyed when he asked her to be his date.  
  
Carol hadn't been looking forward to it though. To her, this was the first step in Rindy's leaving the nest, a sign of her entering into the next stage of her life, a stage in which Carol would not be so included. She currently had her arms wrapped around Rindy protectively, squeezing her tight like she'd never let go as she sniffled, struggling to hold back her tears.  
  
'Mom, stop!' Rindy scolded, but she was laughing too. 'Tee, can you do something about her? Please?'  
  
'Don't be mean, let her have her moment', Therese laughed, raising her camera again.  
  
'Just don't embarrass me in front of Miguel, okay?'  
  
'I won't!' Carol said, feigning offence.  
  
A few minutes later, the knock they were expecting came at the door. Carol had joined Therese's side, and the two of them were hanging around in the kitchen, trying to act nonchalant. Carol squeezed Therese's hand as they heard the knock, and Therese looked across at her. She was biting her lip, staring straight ahead at the door, trying to hold back her tears. Therese's heart broke a little, seeing it.  
  
'Dry your eyes, babe', Therese said, kissing her temple. Carol quickly turned away, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand.  
  
The two of them held back, letting Rindy have a moment with her date, waiting for her sign to tell them it was okay to go over. They pretended to busy themselves in the kitchen, though they were going out to a restaurant later with Dannie and his wife Lauren, so they didn't need to cook anything.   
  
Rindy brought the boy over to the kitchen after a couple of minutes. He was tall, with olive skin and dark, curly hair cut short, and big, warm brown eyes. He wore a black suit with a red tie to match the flower he'd given to Rindy. She wore it proudly on her wrist.  
  
'This is Miguel', she introduced them. 'Miguel, these are my moms, Carol and Therese'.  
  
He shook hands with both of them. 'It's so nice to finally meet you', he said politely. 'Rindy's told me a lot about you'.  
  
They four of them exchanged somewhat awkward small talk for a couple of minutes, before Rindy reminded them that Miguel's father was waiting to take them to school. And before they knew it, Rindy had hugged her mothers goodbye and was leaving them, Carol's head resting on Therese's shoulder as they watched the happy couple go.  
  
Just like that, she was gone, such an emotional event having flown by in an instant. Carol went to open the bottle of wine they'd been saving for the occasion.  
  
'To our lovely daughter, who's growing up way too fast', she toasted, handing Therese a glass as they curled up on the couch, facing each other.  
  
'Don't give up just yet', Therese said, taking a sip of the crisp pink liquid. 'I think you might have to get used to having her around more'.  
  
'What do you mean?' Carol asked, frowning.  
  
Therese sighed, leaning one arm on the back of the couch. 'She knows about her moving in here'.  
  
'You told her?'  
  
'No, she overheard us'.  
  
Carol rolled her eyes. 'Why does that not surprise me. That girl could be a detective, the way she sneaks around, listening to things she's not supposed to hear. Did you talk to her about it?'  
  
'A little. I told her not to mention it again until we've spoken to Harge. She seemed happy about it, though'.  
  
'I'm glad', Carol smiled.  
  
But Therese looked down at her lap, something other than contentment on her mind.   
  
'She asked me if I was okay with it', she said, something like sadness or disappointment leaking into her voice. It was disappointment in herself, a feeling that had been circling her head since their conversation earlier. 'She said it had always been just the two of us. It was like she thought she might be crashing our place, like I wouldn't want her here'. She looked up at Carol, needing her response. 'Do you think I ever made her feel like that? Do you think I made her feel unwelcome?'  
  
'Not at all', Carol answered without hesitation.   
  
'But what if I did, without meaning it?' Therese pressed. 'Like maybe at the beginning, did she think I was trying to steal you away from her? Did she think I was jealous?'  
  
'Weren't you jealous?' Carol asked, smiling flirtatiously.   
  
'Carol, seriously! What if I made her feel like I was pushing her out of her own family?'  
  
Carol reached up, mindlessly stroking through Therese's dark hair. 'We've always been a family, all these years', she assured her. 'Even at the beginning, when we didn't see her much, you were still her mom. She always saw you as that, right from the early days'.  
  
'You think so?' Therese asked, still doubting herself.  
  
'I know it', Carol confirmed. 'She told me. We've had ten years. She's known you longer than she hasn't known you'.  
  
Therese smiled to herself. 'Ten years', she mused.  
  
Carol smiled too, taking her hand from Therese's hair down to her forearm, stroking gentle lines up and down. 'I know. I've been saying that since January and I still can't believe it. This year marks a decade'.  
  
'It makes you notice on days like this, though, don't you think?' Therese wondered aloud. 'We're sending Rindy off to her senior prom. We know this is one of the big days in our lives, something we'll remember for years to come. That kinda makes you look back on all your other big days. And the small ones too'.  
  
'Any highlights?' Carol asked, like it was the simplest question.   
  
'From ten years?'  
  
'Yeah. What's your favourite big day?'  
  
'Um. I don't think I have favourites. I just have ones that stand out'.  
  
'Then what stands out?'   
  
Carol observed her inquisitively as she made up her mind.  
  
After a few moments, Therese smiled, remembering. 'Abby and Ingrid's wedding'.  
  
'How did I know you'd say that one', Carol laughed.  
  
'It was a lot of fun. Less so for you'.  
  
'No, I had a lot of fun too. And so did Abby. We just got a bit carried away'.  
  
Therese laughed incredulously. 'You two pounded, like, five shots of tequila in a row. And it hit you all at once. Abby danced for about two hours without stopping, and I thought you were gonna throw up, but you took me outside and pushed me up against the wall and made out with me. Then Harge found us'.  
  
Carol cringed. 'It was so awkward'.  
  
'Yeah, I know. The best part was the next morning at the hotel restaurant, watching you try not to be sick'.  
  
'Yeah, yeah, I'm sure it was absolutely hilarious to see it', Carol said sarcastically.  
  
'Gen couldn't stop laughing, so she was no help at all. I think Abby is invincible against alcohol because she was fine the next morning, she even started teasing you. I tried to get you to eat something but you wouldn't'.  
  
'I didn't eat a thing all day. God, that was the worst hangover I've ever had. It was a fun day though, the wedding'. Carol laughed to herself, staring into the distance as if she was watching her memories unfold right there in the room.   
  
'What about a small day?' she asked after a few moments.  
  
That question was even more difficult for Therese to find an answer to. They led a relatively quiet life aside from their careers, and so in a sense, most of their days were small ones. And there had been so many wonderful days.   
  
But when she searched herself, she found one that stuck out, one that offered itself to her, wanting to be shared.  
  
'There was a day when I first started renting my studio', Therese began. 'It was nowhere near ready to open, we had to work on it a lot, do you remember? One of the days, Gen took Rindy to the MoMA and we went to Williamsburg with your car full of stuff. We tested out my new speaker by blasting the Rolling Stones for, like, three hours, and we started painting the walls. I accidentally splashed some paint on your shirt, and then you deliberately threw some back at me, and soon we were throwing paint at each other, and it got all over my clothes and in my hair and you kissed me and the paint from your face rubbed off onto mine. We went to pick Rindy up afterwards and went for ice cream with white paint still covering all our clothes, smeared across our faces and arms'.  
  
Carol was watching her with such attentiveness that it seemed she was living through it all again as Therese spoke, as if she'd been transported back in time.  
  
'I remember that', she said fondly. 'Why is that your favourite day?'  
  
'It was just one of those days that makes you appreciate everything you have. It seems ordinary at first, you're going about your day as normal, and suddenly you're having so much fun and laughing so hard and you look at the person you're with and you step back for a minute and wonder how you got so lucky to be in that exact place at that exact time with that person who's so important and special. It was just that kinda day. I just felt like I was so in love with you. And if that was my last day on Earth, I would have died happy because I loved you and I loved Rindy and I loved my studio and our apartment and our friends and our crazy life. It was perfect'.  
  
Carol smiled at her adoringly, her eyes filled up with tears once again. The two of them would have to pull themselves together before going out tonight, Therese thought, almost laughing at the image of them overcome with emotion and breaking down and sobbing in the middle of a Manhattan restaurant.  
  
'And how do you feel now?' Carol whispered.  
  
Therese paused.   
  
How did it make her feel now, to look back on her fondest memories with that kind of wistful nostalgia that seemed to only come with things so far in the past that they felt somewhat out of reach? It was painful, in some ways, knowing that with each passing day, they were sinking into the distance. But it taught her the value of them, nevertheless. Maybe no days were really small. Maybe every tiny moment, even the ones that didn't seem to matter, were just as important as the significant ones. That's how it felt, being with Carol. Even after all this time, that's how it felt.  
  
Ten years together. Had the passion gone? Not for Therese it hadn't. Carol was forty-six years old and more beautiful with every day she aged. They'd faced plenty of criticism over the years, being two women with a decade long age gap and a child from a previous marriage, but Therese never let it bother her, because she knew if they saw the way Carol gave herself to her, maybe they would change their minds. And they had their fights, like every couple. Their life together wasn't perfect. But the truth was, Therese was just as much in love with Carol as she was the day she first realised it.  
  
This wasn't the life she'd imagined for herself. For a girl who grew up in foster homes, the idea that maybe she would have a traditional family in the future was a source of comfort. She'd meet a guy, get married, have a couple of children and spend a life in the suburbs. That's what she thought a normal family was supposed to be. And if she could tell her younger self what her life had really become, she never would have believed it.  
  
She'd never imagined she would settle down so early in her life. She'd never imagined she would become a stepmother to a seven-year-old at the age of twenty-five. And she'd never imagined the love of her life would be a woman twelve years her senior, a high flyer with an ex-husband and a daughter and a celebrity status.   
  
But that's what everything came down to. Carol wasn't what she'd imagined, but, ultimately, it all came down to her. Those beautiful lives they had created for themselves had become intertwined, every thread delicately tying together to become one, a life that they shared. She was her family, she was her home. She was everything and more, and sometimes she still had to reach out in the middle of the night to assure herself she wasn't dreaming, that she hadn't just conjured up a fantasy so vivid she lived through it without realising. But she'd always find smooth skin beneath her fingertips, soft as velvet. Carol was always right there beside her.  
  
No, Carol wasn't the life she'd imagined for herself. But she didn't have to imagine at all anymore. If there was some other life that was meant for her, she wasn't sure she'd want it.  
  
So how did she feel now? Had time changed anything? Did she look back with tinted glasses, projecting everything she knew now onto old memories, like an adult revisiting a movie from their childhood and realising it was nothing like they remembered? Was she any different from that woman who lived in a tiny apartment in East Village, took classes at NYU and drank cheap beer at a college bar almost every night of the week? The woman who'd fallen in love for the first time?   
  
_Not at all._  
  
Therese smiled. 'I feel exactly the same way'.

 


End file.
